


Dark Legacy

by emmadilla



Series: The Dark Brotherhood Legacy [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cicero needs love too, F/M, Family, OC is not the Dragonborn, Rebirth, Restoration, The Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, legacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 00:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12619160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmadilla/pseuds/emmadilla
Summary: Marane Lachance is the direct descendent of Lucien Lachance, and she has a lot to live up to as far as fulfilling her family's legacy. She seeks out and joins the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim, but finds it to be a shadow of what it once was, and she becomes determined to rebuild it from the ground up. But, there are dangers afoot, and not everyone appreciates her being there, trying to fix what they think isn't broken. Marane knows better, she only needs to convince her new family of what serving Sithis can really be like.





	1. The Lachance Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is based on yet another role-play I'm doing. NaNoWriMo is actually motivating me and I think I could actually manage this story along with the others during this month, otherwise I would wait to start it. So, I hope you enjoy! (picture below, of both Marane and Lucien)

_My name is Marane Lachance._

 

_You’ve never heard of me, and I’m not surprised. It’s a pretty ordinary name, slipping in and out of the every day without anyone taking any notice of it. Just like me. You might hear it said one moment and forget it the next. I’m not that memorable._

 

_But I will be. You will remember me some day._

 

_What you just might recognize is my last name. My first name might slip by completely unnoticed, but my last name, it just may catch you. Might tug at your memory, make you ask yourself where you know it from, why it’s so familiar. It’s not until the dead of night, where nightmares make you whimper into the darkness that you remember, and you whisper the name._

 

_Lucien Lachance._

 

_He lived 200 years ago, when the Dark Brotherhood held Tamriel tight within its grip. He was a Speaker for the Black Hand, the ruling body of the Brotherhood. He was known and he was feared and despite his standing in the Brotherhood, he was betrayed. The murder of the Listener was pinned on him, and despite his pleas of innocence, they killed and mutilated him, flaying and then hanging his corpse for all to see. It was their own hubris that led them to kill an innocent brother. Sithis help them all._

 

_But the Night Mother knew. She knew and she used the Champion to prove his innocence, and in the end he was vindicated. He serves the Dread Father in the Void, just like I will one day._

 

_He is my ancestor, and I am his legacy._

 

_To be precise, he is my 5th great-grandfather. After his murder, his wife saw to it that he was vindicated before she bore the son he would never see. But even though he would never meet his father, she made sure that he knew him, she made sure that we all knew him. And even after she died and went to join his soul in the Void, his legacy stayed strong, pulsing through our veins._

 

_We aren’t a traditional family by any means._

 

_I actually grew up mostly in Cheydinhal, where all of our family was lived and grown since Lucien. He was a source of pride for us, something to aspire to, but when I was younger my parents moved us to High Rock. Their move was in response to the growing trouble brewing in Cyrodiil, a sentiment they feared would spread too far and result in the decimation of the Brotherhood. Their foresight was fortuitous, and because of their decision, we did not suffer a similar fate to our ancestor as the Brotherhood was razed to the ground._

 

_Because of this, I did not get to join the Brotherhood when I came of age, like my family before me, as they had long lost a hold in High Rock. I still trained, though. This is what I was born to do, it runs in my blood. You can’t change your fate, even if the world tries to change it for you. I will follow in Lucien’s footsteps and nobody, not even the Nine Divines, can stop me._

 

_I’d like to see them try._

 

_As far as assassins go nowadays, in the Fourth Era, one has only a few options. One can, of course, freelance, which is what I’ve been doing since I was of age. I needed to earn money and to make my own way in this world, and I couldn’t just sit on my bum and expect it to be handed to me just because I was the 5th great-granddaughter of Lucien Lachance. My mother and father trained me the hardest, pushed me further than any Lachance descendent, but I thank them for it. It’s made me clever and sharp, it’s given me a silver tongue and a mastery of body language. It’s made me a master of shadows and silence. If I don’t want you to see or hear me, you won’t. Just because I was disadvantaged by not having contact with other Dark Brothers and Sisters was no excuse. If anything, I had to be even better, to make up for it. And I am. But there are downsides to freelancing, mainly the lack of steady income and the risk taken by not having a secure base and backup should something happen. I’ve had to squeeze out of a couple of sticky situations before, and while I managed, I was looking over my shoulder for far longer than I should have needed to, had I belonged to a proper guild._

 

_Another option for assassins is to join to Morag Tong. But who are we kidding, who really wants to join them? They dismantled their group after the Red Year, and while rumours abound that they have reformed, who wants to join a group of assassins who willingly dissolve? This life, it is not something that you are supposed to be able to just walk away from. You have to breathe it, let it fill your lungs, let it race through your veins, pump through your heart. It’s not a profession that can be cast aside if need be. It_ is _your life. If you give anything less to it, then you don’t deserve the title._

 

_The only option that remains, then, is the Dark Brotherhood. They unfortunately do not exist in Cyrodiil anymore, which tugs on my heartstrings harder than it should. I would love nothing more than to become an agent of Sithis in my homeland, the homeland of my ancestors. I want nothing more than to walk the halls of the Sanctuary that Lucien once did, to follow in his literal footsteps as I advance in rank, perhaps even gain the same dagger that he once used that has been passed down from high ranking Dark Brother to high ranking Dark Sister in the 200 years since he lived. But if the Brotherhood is where I am determined to be, then it is Skyrim where I must go instead. While the organization has been broken and driven out of Cyrodiil, it lives on in Skyrim, though on a much smaller scale._

 

_No matter. The Dark Brotherhood is the Dark Brotherhood, and as long as they serve the Night Mother and observe the Five Tenets - which have been drilled into me since my youth - then I will join them._

 

_For this is fate. This is destiny that not even the gods themselves can undo. It has been written in the stars since the night I was born, and I will not rest until I fulfill it._

 

———

 

With a sigh, I closed the journal in front of me, pausing to rub my eyes. The words I wrote, I wrote them with conviction, with full strength of belief. But in real life, it was much harder to adhere to it. It was 4E 200, and the anniversary of Lucien’s death was looming, but here in Skyrim it was much harder to find the Brotherhood than I anticipated. I’d known they were a much smaller faction than any of the Cyrodiil chapters had been, and they wouldn’t be a secret league of assassins if they had signs pointing to their headquarters, but I’d had little luck so far in locating them. I’d put out some feelers, trying to suss them out, but my search had been fruitless so far. In fact, until just a couple of hours ago, I’d had precisely zero leads.

 

I now had _one_.

 

There was a rumour that a young boy by the name of Aventus Aretino was performing the Black Sacrament, a ritual that called out to the Night Mother, who would then send a Dark Brotherhood member to carry out the contract. I admitted, I had contemplated performing it, myself, to see if I could make them appear to me. But in the end, it felt too sacrilegious to use the ritual in such a way, and the guilt over even considering it consumed me until I finally dismissed the thought completely.

 

_But_ , if I were to encounter someone performing the ritual for themselves, for perfectly valid reasons … well, it stood to reason that a Dark Brother or Sister would be along sooner or later. And I could wait for them. I had no wish to interfere, to dissuade them from their duty. I only wanted to join them, and so far this was my best chance at contact.

 

I stood from the table and stretched, loosening up my muscles. The child in question resided in Windhelm, which was almost completely on the other side of Skyrim from Markarth, which was where I currently rested my head. I’d bought a small residence, just inside the front gate, and I’d made it my home while I searched. The way I had everything set up, it was a little cramped, and I didn’t even have an actual kitchen to cook in, but it served its purpose. Besides keeping me warm and dry, I also had an alchemy and enchanting table, so I could study in my spare time, and also a workbench so I could repair or improve my armor if I needed to. It was a miracle I’d managed to fit everything into the small space, and I truly would have preferred a little more room, but this was all the Jarl was willing to part with without having me apply for the position of Thane. The other house that had been available - Vlindrel Hall - had gone to Aramind Wind-Singer, the new Thane and darling of the Jarl. He was a warrior who had breezed into the hold and pushed back against the Forsworn, prompting his Thaneship. As a reward, he was given a housecarl and the title, but I think he considered his housecarl the greater prize … if one understood what I meant. I could have taken him out myself and seized his property, sure, but it would have been too obvious. I knew better. Petty jealousy did not serve anyone well. If the guards didn’t seize me and throw me in the mines, his housecarl turned lover would certainly be after my head.

 

And that was something I definitely didn’t need.

 

I made sure all my necessary preparations were in order before I laid down, checking and double checking my pack, counting the bottles of potions I had, verifying I had enough food to sustain me. If all went as planned, I would be up and out of Markarth before the sun even crested the mountains around the Reach. Even though I would be taking the carriage that always sat parked outside of the stables, the journey would take the better part of the day at the very least. It was longer than I wanted, and I could only hope that I would make it to Windhelm in time to make contact with the Brother or Sister sent there to answer the Sacrament.

 

I had to. I would. This was my path, and no matter what obstacles were put in my way, I was determined to walk it.

 

 


	2. Innocence Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And second chapter! Just because

The cart rolled into Windhelm just after dark, and I thanked the driver and tipped him before I walked the long bridge to the entrance of the city. I wished nothing more than to rest at the local tavern before collapsing in a bed for the night, but I didn’t have time for that right now. I had to immediately make contact with the boy, and just hope and pray that the Dark Brotherhood hadn’t already come knocking and fulfilled his contract. My sources were pretty good about getting information to me quickly, but the Brotherhood was quick and silent, and for all I knew this contract had already been completed and my one chance at contact was gone.

 

I couldn’t allow myself to think so darkly as I entered the city, skirting past two Nords who were hassling a Dunmer woman. I quickly memorized their faces in passing, as I couldn’t abide their type, but I didn’t have time to take care of the situation just yet. Right now, I needed to figure out where this kid was at, and in the maze-like city of Windhelm, he could have been under my very nose and I would have never known it.

 

I started walking down one path, seeing if the buildings held any markings or significance on them, but the walls were bare and unmarked, save for that of snow and ice. I pulled my cloak further around me as I trudged along the path, keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of Aventus.

 

Suddenly, my ears perked, almost burning as they picked up what I was desperately wanting to hear, and I immediately crouched and hid so I could eavesdrop. There were two of them standing there in the snow-laden pathway, a young boy and an older woman, an Elf by what I could tell at a distance in the snowfall. The boy must have known Aventus, and he kept wanting to see him, saying he was holed up in the house next to where they were standing, performing the Black Sacrament. _Yes, yes, this is what I need._ The woman scoffed, saying it was nonsense, but the boy was clever and called her bluff, saying if there wasn’t anything going on in the Aretino household then it would be fine to take a look around. The woman finally relented, saying that Aventus was indeed up to something, and that he had a dark look about him, but wouldn’t discuss it further as she shoed the boy away.

 

My eyes darted to the house that I was crouched behind, my heart trilling with anticipation. I was so close to my goal now, it was _right here_. I crept around to the front of the house, keeping watch for any guards or citizens coming up the pathway, then quickly set to unlocking the door with a lockpick. It wasn’t a difficult lock, not that that would have mattered with me, and I soon opened the door and slunk inside, closing out the blowing snow behind me.

 

I paused at the foot of the stairs, slowing down my breathing so the harshness didn’t give me away. I climbed up the stairs one at a time, toe to heel, almost holding my breath as I crested the main floor. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear the voice of a young boy as he continuously repeated the words for the Black Sacrament. “Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear … sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear …”

 

As I approached the room he was in, I saw him crouched over the elements of the ritual, and my brow furrowed in confusion. My sources had just gotten word to me of this contract being requested the previous evening, and even though they were sharp, it was highly unusual that a Dark Brother or Sister hadn’t made contact yet. I had figured that contact had been made and I would simply wait here for them to return and verify that the job was done, but they simply hadn’t shown up yet at all.

 

That was very odd.

 

I stood up as I entered the room, my hood still drawn and my cloak wrapped loosely around me. Aventus didn’t even notice me at first, not surprising as I was a difficult one to spot, but I intentionally scrapped my boot against the floor, not wanting to draw this out any longer. His head whipped up to see me and his eyes immediately brightened. “You’ve come at least! I knew you would!”

 

The exhaustion showed in his small body, from the dark circles under his eyes to the way his shoulders slouched. I had to wonder just how long he’d been doing the Sacrament, to be this tired. It was highly unusual for a Sacrament to be ignored. Something was wrong.

 

The boy didn’t seem to sense anything amiss, however, as he exclaimed, mostly to himself, “It worked! I knew you’d come, I just knew it! I I did the Black Sacrament _over and over_ , with the body, and the … things … and then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!”

 

“Yes, the Dark Brotherhood …” I replied, still wondering just what was going on with the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim. Had something happened to them? My heart sank at the possibility that the Skyrim branch had been wiped out just like the Cyrodriilic branch had and word just hadn’t been received. No, it couldn’t be that, it just couldn’t. I was too close now, so close that everything within me thrummed in excitement. Had I not been trained, I would have trembled at the nervous energy coursing through me, but I held still, silent and focused.

 

“Finally!” Aventus exclaimed. “It took _so long_. So very long. But now that you’re here, you can accept my contract!”

 

He seemed awfully cheerful and eager for someone about to issue an execution order against someone. But, I’d seen and dealt with worse, far worse. The only surprise was from how young he was. He couldn’t have been more than 10. As I’d entered the residence, it had looked dusty and unkempt, and like he was the only one there. Strange. “Contract? And just what contract would a young boy give to the Dark Brotherhood?”

 

Aventus seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, and he shifted from foot to foot as he explained. “Well, you see, my mother, she … she died. I … I’m all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honourhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind, but she’s not kind. She’s terrible, to all of us. So, I ran away and came here, came home, and performed the Black Sacrament. And now you’re here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind for me!” He started to get excited again, then paused, terror alighting in his eyes as he stuttered, “But please, please don’t kill Constance Michel. She is really kind! Just … hurry, please. To be honest, I’m kinda lonely here, and as much as I hated getting sent to Honourhall, I really miss my friends there …”

 

This poor boy, dealt such a shit hand in life. Curious that his first thought was to contact a group of assassins and have the source of his grief terminated. It wasn’t every child who problem solved like that. If the Brotherhood was bigger, stronger, more capable … perhaps he would be watched from afar, observed to see if he had the talent for spilling blood. But right now, I didn’t have time to worry about that. I may not have been a Dark Sister yet, but I _was_ an assassin, and this was a contract sitting in front of me. Might as well seal the deal. “Are you sure about this, boy? Murdering this woman?”

 

He nodded emphatically. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life. Someone like Grelod doesn’t deserve to live one more day. She’s a _monster_.”

 

I grinned darkly. “Then she shall be put down like one.”

 

Within 24 hours, I slipped into the orphanage in Riften, closing in on my target. I had been doing some recon work as soon as I got there, and what I’d witnessed repulsed me to my core. I was a hardened, trained assassin, sure, spilling blood left and right for money. But I was never cruel … well, not unless it was specified. Still, I despised unnecessary cruelty. While I didn’t care about killing, I didn’t revel in it. It was a job, my family’s job, and I’d never given it a second though. But this Grelod … she may not have killed, physically speaking, but she was slowly killing the children’s spirits, breaking them until they were run down, used only for her endless chores and her ability to collect income from the Jarl until they came of age and she chucked them onto the street. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them as I’d overheard her berating them and then forcing them to tell her that they loved her. _Sick_ , I had thought, my stomach even turning.

 

The darkened orphanage was quiet as I snuck in, past the dining room and the sleeping children and into Grelod’s room, where she sat at her desk looking over paperwork. I silently drew my ebony dagger, carefully so that it wouldn’t scrape the scabbard, and made my way over to her, blending into the shadows. When I had first started killing, at this point my heart would have been pounding out of my chest. But now, after years of practice and technique refinement, it was as calm as if I was reading or taking a bath. It was second nature, born of experience and instinct, honed and sharpened over the years to a fine point. Every muscle in my body was loose, ready to move in whatever way I needed, the tension long gone.

 

I took a breath and then reached out, grabbing the old woman and hauling her to her feet. She gasped in surprised as I shoved her against the wall, holding the dagger to her throat as I told her the last words she would ever hear, “Aventus Aretino says hello.” And with that, I quickly drew the blade deeply across her neck, deep enough to cut through her vocal chords so she couldn’t even scream for help as she bled out. Shock, surprise, terror, all played across her face in the span of the few minutes it took for the light to leave her eyes. I let her body slump to the floor, still spilling blood as I took out a cloth and wiped the red from my blade, tossing it to the ground before I sheathed my dagger again.

 

As I turned to leave, I almost startled to find a young blond-haired girl standing in the middle of the children’s room, clutching a doll as she looked on wide-eyed at the scene before her. I brought my finger to my lips, and as her eyes darted between me and the still-warm body on the floor, she broke out in a grin. She ran over to one of the beds and shook the sleeping child, and as I slipped past them in the shadows, I heard her exclaim, “Grelod is dead! Aventus did it!”

 

 

Aventus greeted me anxiously as I walked in, not even bothering with trying to sneak. “Well? Grelod the Kind, is she … you know …”

 

“Grelod the Kind is dead.”

 

“Aha! I knew you could do it, I just knew it! I knew the Dark Brotherhood would save us! Here, just like I promised,” he said as he handed me a fancy silver platter. “This should fetch you a nice price. And, thank you. Thank you so much.” He sighed and fidgeted as he said, “Well, I guess I’ll go back to the orphanage in a little while. Once they … clean up the mess.” He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it as he spontaneously added, “When I grow up, I want to be an assassin, that way I can help lots of kids, just like you do!”

 

I smirked at his assessment and proclamation. That wasn’t quite my job description, but he didn’t need to know that, not right now. I reached out and smoothed his hair back as I told him, “The life of an assassin is one of total devotion to the craft. If you are willing to give up everything for it … then it may indeed be your calling. And if it is … don’t worry about finding me. I’ll find you.”

 

His eyes lit up. “Really? You promise?”

 

I smiled, my first genuine smile in a long time. “I promise.”


	3. The Black Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to sprinkle in some picture from my role-play as well, not too many, just here and there, maybe one per chapter. I already added one in the last chapter if you want to go look. :)

The drifting snow swirled around my feet as I walked the stone road away from Windhelm. I had no wish to stay in the city for the night, with the loud and raucous crowd that gathered at the Frozen Hearth. I could have slipped over to the New Gnesis Club, but not being of Mer descent I would have stuck out too much for my liking. So, I walked the short distance to Kynesgrove, intending on spending the night at the inn there and then walking back to Windhelm to catch the carriage back to Markarth.

 

Markarth, where it seemed my lifelong dream would finally end. Once I arrived back there, what else was I to do? This had been my best chance at contacting the Dark Brotherhood, but they hadn’t even responded to the Black Sacrament, something that would be considered a heinous violation, disobedience of the highest caliber: ignoring the direct order of the Night Mother. Because of that, I had to assume that the Skyrim chapter of the Dark Brotherhood was now defunct as well.

 

I paused on the path, near the river, and took a deep breath. Looking out over the tundra, I felt that all of my hopes and dreams were now gone. But how? What had happened? How _could_ this happen? The Dark Brotherhood wasn’t just an organization, it was an _institution_. It simply _existed_ , like life itself. It might be broken down and driven out of some places, but it was never completely gone. It was like the very earth itself, the trees and the roots and the grass, you could trim them as much as you like, but they were never really _dead_. Right? The Night Mother, Sithis … they wouldn’t simply allow the Dark Brotherhood to completely disappear, would they?

 

I shoved aside the creeping existential crisis aside as I entered the inn, buying a room, some food, and enough ale to get started. The only room left was a fairly large one with a double-sized bed and a desk along with a regular table to eat at. I didn’t care, I just paid for it, collected my ale, and waited for my food to be delivered as I ducked inside. I could have eaten at the public tables with the other patrons, but I didn’t feel like being that exposed right now. I wanted a little privacy, and even though I left my door cracked open so my food could be easily delivered it was just what I needed. I cracked and downed a whole bottle, then cracked and drank half of the next before I pulled out the journal I had started in order to chronicle my entrance into the Dark Brotherhood, for the preservation of the legacy. I almost snorted as I dipped my pen in the ink.

 

———

 

_Something has gone horribly wrong. Oh, my lead was correct. I found Aventus Aretino, just as I was told … but he was still performing the Sacrament when I arrived. I can’t imagine what befell the Dark Brotherhood here, but there is no reason they would have ignored a call for contract like that unless …_

 

_Unless they’re gone._

 

_I don’t know how this happened. Perhaps, like in Cyrodiil, Skyrim cracked down on them too hard and they had nowhere to run. It’s strange that this news hasn’t gotten out until now, but … I suppose I am the one to do it._

 

_So that will be my own legacy, then. Instead of joining the Brotherhood and following in my ancestor’s footsteps, I’ll be the one to announce its demise. I don’t know if it is fitting or if it’s tragic that it happens the same year as the 200th anniversary of Lucien’s death. Perhaps both. Perhaps neither. The only thing I know for sure now is that the culmination of my efforts, the only achievement I ever truly craved, is gone. The training, the sacrifices, everything I was put through was all for naught._

 

_I don’t regret it, not for a moment. This has changed nothing about who I am. The only thing that has changed is that the association between the Lachances and the Dark Brotherhood end here. It is up to me now to forge a new path for future generations. This is what I regret, that it comes to this. I wanted nothing more than to fit in to my family legacy, like a cog in the machine. I was content with that. But now I must stand out, I must do something new, and that is what scares me. I will always strive to honour my ancestors, no matter what, but this new path I must travel … it is unknown, as of yet, even to me._

 

———

 

Writing, as always, helped me sort my thoughts and lay things out, observe the facts as they were instead of letting them swirl around in my mind and confuse me. And the facts were quite simple. The Dark Brotherhood was gone, truly gone. My purpose in life was still to be an assassin, like those before me. Since the Brotherhood was gone, therefore, I must serve Sithis on my own. I wasn’t talking about freelancing, however, that is not what a Lachance would do. Instead, I must focus my efforts, recruit. Rebuild.

 

As I cracked open my third bottle of ale, I was starting to feel better. Or maybe that was just the ale. I suspected it was a little bit of both, but before I could think about it too much, there was a knock on my door and the innkeeper entered with my food. I nodded and thanked them, sliding a few extra coins in their hand as they set the plate down in front of me. Their beef was spiced wonderfully and was juicy and tender as I dug in. The butter on the baked potato was still melting as steam continued to rise, running over the side of the brown skin and dripping on the leeks around it. I would have to remind myself to stop in at this inn more often, if for the food than nothing else. It certainly put the Silver-Blood Inn to shame.

 

It was when I was almost finished with my meal that there was another knock on my door, and I looked up, curious. The innkeeper had closed the door when they left, leaving me to my privacy, and I couldn’t think of why they would need to come back. My hand on my dagger, I called out, “Yes?”

 

The muffled voice on the other side replied, “Courier, ma’am, I have a delivery for you.”

 

This was unexpected, and it did nothing to help my suspicion. I drew one of my daggers and held it behind my back as I slowly opened the door, maintaining my alertness even though the soft edges of the liquor. The man on the other side was pretty nondescript, standard for couriers, and he held a letter in his hand that he’d drawn from his pack. “Who told you to deliver this to me?” I asked.

 

The courier shrugged. “Dunno. Creepy fellow in a dark robe. Wouldn’t say who he was, but he paid me a pretty septim to get this in your hands as soon as possible.”

 

Well, there was only one thing to do. I took the letter, tossed the man a septim, and closed the door, staring at the piece of paper in my hand. The parchment was plain, cheap even. The kind that could be found anywhere for a single septim. It wasn’t even sealed to protect the contents, simply folded. So, someone paid handsomely enough to ensure prompt delivery, but didn’t use nice parchment or even seal it to ensure the message stayed private? Interesting …

 

I opened the folded letter, still keeping my dagger in hand and listening intently, just in case someone tried to jump me. But nothing like that happened. The door stayed closed, the few patrons that were out in the inn remained drinking and making whatever merry they normally did, and the fire remained crackling. As I opened it fully, I exposed a very familiar symbol, a black hand. The black hand of the Dark Brotherhood. And, underneath it, were only two words.

 

 

_We know_.

 

My hand trembled ever so slightly as my breath caught in my throat. I had only just accepted the Dark Brotherhood’s demise, and yet here in my hand was irrefutable proof that they lived on … in some form or another. At least their lore did. That hand was emblazoned on my own cloak, in red, a symbol of the Brotherhood, of the Night Mother, of Sithis and his will. Of everything.

 

I sat down hard, the letter still in my hand, my head starting to swim from the turn of events. I almost felt whiplash from the sharp turn I’d had to take from earlier in the evening, from contemplating total rebuilding of the Brotherhood to acceptance that it still existed and I could still join, somehow. I really could fulfill my legacy the way I’d wanted to all along, be that cog in the great machine. It was a huge weight lifted from my shoulders, and I found myself laughing.

 

I bought another ale from the innkeeper and retreated back into my room for the last time that night, looking at the letter one more time before I folded it gently and slipped it into my journal. This was something I would keep hold of forever, something I would treasure for years to come, the reassurance after doubt and anxiety had plagued me. It was the answer I had been looking for.

 

I knew.


	4. The Invitation

I woke up in a daze with a pounding headache. _Ugh, I only had four bottles of ale …_ This hangover would have suggested otherwise, as I fought to keep the contents of my stomach where they were at. I went to roll over and almost fell out of the bed. Strange, the night before I had fallen asleep in the middle of the large double bed in the inn. Had I rolled over in my sleep? I hadn’t done that in years.

 

My vision was blurry as I went to sit, and then stand, clearing only when I blinked several times. And when it did, I froze as I realized that I was no longer in the inn, I was in a strange room, and a woman was perched on an old bookshelf across from me, simply observing me. My blood ran cold as I immediately reached for my dagger - which was, amazingly, still on me - when she spoke. “Sleep well?”

 

My eyebrow quirked. “A little too well, it seems. You drugged me, then, I take it?”

 

She shrugged. “I had to ensure you wouldn’t wake while I brought you here.”

 

I almost chuckled, but I suppressed it in favour of a smile. “So that’s what the Dark Brotherhood has come to these days? Abducting people? Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned murder?”

 

“That _is_ our specialty, but it seems it’s yours as well. Old Grelod rots away in the ground because of you. The bitch had it coming, don’t get it wrong, and the children are probably _thrilled_ to be rid of her, but there is a slight … problem …”

 

I remained silent, waiting for her to answer. I couldn’t imagine what she could possibly have a problem with, in fact _I_ had a problem with _her_ , but I didn’t speak for now. I would see what she wanted first.

 

And she obliged. “You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood, so by all rights, Grelod the Kind was a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill that _you_ took for yourself. A kill you must repay.”

 

“I agree,” I replied, not waiting for her reply as I continued. “Grelod _was_ a Dark Brotherhood kill. So I have to wonder, why did the Dark Brotherhood not answer the Black Sacrament?”

 

The woman chuckled. “Our organization is a bit … stretched thin, at the moment. And Aventus was but a boy. I honestly figured it wasn’t a _real_ contract anyway and chose to focus on others.”

 

I suppressed the rage that began to course through me at her statement. Really? _That_ was why they ignored the summons? That was disgraceful. If anyone had done so in Lucien’s time, they would have been severely punished. Even if a real contract wasn’t offered, that was still very sloppy, and it would potentially subject the Brotherhood to a slippery slope. “Even if it wasn’t real, wouldn’t you want to answer it anyway? If the Dark Brotherhood fails to answer such a summons, even if it isn’t real, there lies the root of rumours. Rumours that the Dark Brotherhood is dead. Or worse … unreliable.”

 

I could tell she bristled a little at my implication, but she kept herself outwardly calm. We were both well-versed assassins, and we were both armed, it would do no good to try to pounce on me now. Instead, she chose her words carefully. “It was a mistake. A mistake made because of our dwindling numbers. I don’t know what you expected when you came here, but we have not remained unaffected in the years since our association with Cyrodiil. We have suffered greatly, too, and while we have not been wiped out like our southern Brothers and Sisters, we are still clinging to the edge of extinction, alive and functioning only because of our small numbers and fierce loyalty.”

 

I stayed silent for a moment, considering the situation. The night before, I had been half-drunk and just _relieved_ to know that they were still alive. But now, now I was furious. Furious that they blatantly ignored the Black Sacrament, furious that _I_ had to pick up the slack when I wasn’t even a Dark Brotherhood member. And I _still_ gave them the glory for the kill, as I’d never corrected Aventus and told him I wasn’t with the Brotherhood. Numbers aside, ignoring the Sacrament was blatantly disrespectful of the Night Mother, which went against the Five Tenets, against everything I was raised in. But, if this Brotherhood was more casual than what I was expecting, then so be it. It wasn’t my place to argue with a Dark Sister. She had given me an order, and I had to respect that order and carry it out, or else I would be breaking one of the Tenets, myself. “Who do you want me to kill?”

 

“Well, now, funny you should ask. If you turn around, you’ll notice my guests.” I turned my head ever so slightly to see better out of my periphery, and saw three people kneeling at the other end of the room, bound and hooded. “I’ve _collected_ them from … well, that’s not really important. The here and now, that’s what matters. You see, there’s a contract out on one of them, and that person can’t leave this room alive. But … which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe … and admire.”

 

 

So it was a test, then, a test to see if I could tell who would have a contract taken out on them. Well, I hadn’t heard of anything like this, before, but if this was how the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim operated, then this is how it would be. I slowly walked over to them, keeping a sharp ear out to hear if the woman jumped down and went to go after me while my back was turned. I didn’t get this far by making stupid mistakes. I approached the first one, a Khajiit if the tail was any indication, and knelt in front of him.

 

He didn’t even wait for me to ask anything as he said, “Whoever this is, clearly we got off on the wrong foot. Ah, but no worries. This is not the first time I have been bagged and dragged. Come now. Whatever the problem, we can talk about it like civilized folk, hmmm?”

 

Interesting. He seemed accustomed to this, which was encouraging for me. “Who are you?”

 

“Ahh … Vasha, at your service. Obtainer of goods, taker of lives, and defiler of daughters. Have you not heard of me? Perhaps I will have my people carve my name into your corpse, as a reminder.”

 

An interesting, if illogical approach to intimidation. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t employed by the Dark Brotherhood and remained, by this own admission, a simple mercenary. Amateur. “So, it wouldn’t be out of the question if someone were to pay to have you killed?”

 

He chuckled. “The real question is, would someone pay to have me killed … _again_? A day goes by without someone trying to gut me in the street, I get disappointed. Tell you what, you release me, and I promise my associates won’t hunt you down like an animal and butcher you in the street. It is a win-win.”

 

And interesting proposition, for sure. I moved on to the next, a woman dressed in worn clothes, and as soon as I knelt in front of her, she demanded, “Get these things off me! Cowards! Stealing a woman from her home! For shame!”

 

I ignored her ranting and asked simply, “Who are you?”

 

“None of your damn business is who I am! If you’re going to kill me or something, just do it already. Mara as my witness, if I didn’t have this hood on right now I would spit right in your face.”

 

Feisty. “Would someone pay to have you killed?”

 

“Ex _cuse_ me? What kind of question is that? I’m just a woman living in Skyrim with six children and no husband. I don’t have the time or patience to be _nice_. Do some people look down on me? Sure. Have I made some enemies? You’re damn right I have.” She took in a deep breath and added, “Look, I don’t have the time for this. I’ve got a home to clean and children to feed. If you aren’t going to kill me, then get me out of here _now_.”

 

Demanding one, wasn’t she. Instead of answering her, I continued on to the third figure, a man dressed in armor, and as I knelt, he stuttered, “I … I can hear you talking out there. Please, let me go. I’ve done nothing to you. Is this about that raid last week? I told Holgrim there was no honour in killing sleeping men, but he wouldn’t listen! It wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

 

Seemed like he was willing to spill all his secrets and I hadn’t even asked him one question yet. “Who are you?”

 

“My … My name is Fultheim. I’m a soldier. Well, was. I’m a mercenary now, really. You know, a … a sellsword. I’ve lived in Skyrim all my life. That’s all! I’m a nobody, really. So, can’t you just let me go?”

 

I countered his question with my own. “Would anyone pay to have you killed?”

 

“Please, I don’t know! I mean, I was a soldier, and I _had_ to kill when I was ordered to. War is war, right? Nobody could blame for me that, could they?” I could actually hear a small sob escape him when he added, “What did I do? Whatever it is, please, I’m sorry!”

 

I had about all the information I was going to get out of them, and so I stood and backed away from them, contemplating my choices. They were from very diverse backgrounds, but they all seemed to have enemies, even ones that would want them dead. Now it was just determining _Who_. The un-obvious choice was the woman, and perhaps someone else might have chosen her out of principle, because it was so _obviously_ not her it just had to actually be her, right? But that wasn’t necessarily so. It wasn’t about the target, it was about who ordered them killed, and I highly doubted someone was going to perform the Sacrament and pay up just to have a window killed. The soldier … it was possible. In his line of work, certainly one would have enemies who wanted them dead, even if they were unintentional. But, in their line of work, mercenaries tended to handle their own, and would be more than likely to confront them themselves instead of wasting money on an assassin, much less one from the Dark Brotherhood.

 

And that left Vasha. He had admitted that people tried to kill him all the time, and perhaps others would be put off by that because surely that was too obvious. But it was that reason that made me think it was him. Obviously assassins had been ordered for him before, but whoever they were, they had obviously been unsuccessful thus far. And, whoever had hired them, were likely frustrated at the lack of success. Perhaps this drove them to seek out the Dark Brotherhood, the assassins with the best reputation in all of Tamriel, because if we couldn’t do it, then nobody could.

 

But we would. Without giving it another thought, I drew my dagger and slit Vasha’s throat, my motions so quick and precise he didn’t utter a sound except for an involuntary gurgle as he fell to the floor, quickly bleeding out. I didn’t have a cloth with me to wipe my blade, so I used the corner of his robe to clean the dagger before I sheathed it once more.

 

As I approached her once more, the Dark Sister chuckled and said, “The conniving Khajiit. Cat like that was sure to have enemies. It’s no wonder you chose him.”

 

“So who was it? Who had the contract?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied flippantly. “Guilt, innocence, right, wrong, irrelevant. What _matters_ is I ordered you to kill someone, and you obeyed, without question.”

 

Ah, so that was the test. Not the ability to suss out a contract, or the ability to kill itself, but rather the strength of one’s loyalty, to kill without question or remorse. It was what I was _born_ to do, and this only further strengthened my inner resolve. I had been tested by a Dark Sister and had passed. “So what now?” I asked.

 

“I say we take our relationship to the next level. I would like to officially extend to you an invitation to join the Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest region of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest outside of Falkreath, you’ll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It’s just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the passphrase: silence, my brother. Then, you’re in, and your new life begins. I’ll see you at home.”


	5. Home

After much sweat and more than a little frustration, I finally stood at the door to the Sanctuary in Falkreath. The Dark Sister had been intentionally vague with her instructions, which was understandable, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating when I was essentially marching through a vast forest hoping to find one tiny place. Forget a needle in a haystack, _that_ could at least be found with a magnet and some patience. This was like trying to find a very specific piece of hay in a haystack without the use of one’s hands.

 

But, my perseverance paid off, and just down the road from Half-Moon Mill I finally found the entrance. A small pond with inky black water stood off to the side, and I skirted around it as I approached. My heart pounded in my chest, the culmination of my entire life about to come to fruition. My senses seemed to enhance upon the realization, like I wanted to commit every little part of this moment to memory. The rays of sun that filtered through the trees, the sound of the insects buzzing in the air, the rustle in the bushes of small animals that scurried here and yon, even the _smell_ of the grass and the flowers and the rot of old trees. All of it stood out in sharp contrast to each other as I approached the door.

 

Since I’d never before approached a Black Door, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t know if you were supposed to knock or try to open it or what, but it seemed to sense my presence as I drew close, and I heard a soft, raspy voice. I wasn’t completely sure if it was physically vocal or in my head, but I clearly heard the question.

 

_What is the music of life?_

 

My mouth felt dry as I licked my lips and answered. “Silence, my brother.”

 

I heard the voice again, once more.

 

 

_Welcome home._

 

When I heard those words, I felt my heart would burst out of joy. Had I not had practiced control, I would have sank to my knees and wept with relief and happiness. Throughout my difficult youth and the tumultuous time I’d spent looking for the remnants of the Brotherhood, it had all paid off, and I was right where I wanted to be. _Home._ A feeling of completion swept through me as I stepped through the door, closing it behind me.

 

I took care not to slip on the steps going down into the Sanctuary, as the halls were dimly lit and the stairs were narrow. The whole place felt ancient, and I wondered if the same Sanctuary that Lucien frequented felt the same way. Like there was a real history here, deeply rooted into every stone and stray vine that curled and wove its way around. Even the musty smell in the air felt old, like it had been the same way for centuries, unchanging and constant. How many Brothers and Sisters had passed through these halls, I wondered? Were I in Cyrodiil, I likely could have named a good many of them, but here I could not say one.

 

Well, that was a lie. I could say at least one. My own name. I was the first Lachance to step foot in this Sanctuary, and I would make sure to make my ancestors proud of me.

 

The stairs eventually ended in an open room, and across from the room, standing in a doorway opposite me, was the same Sister from the abandoned shack. “Ah, at last. I hope you found the place alright.”

 

I nodded. What else was there to say? A Sanctuary needed to be well-hidden, I couldn’t fault them for that. “So what happens now?”

 

“Now? Well, you start your new life in the Dark Brotherhood. You’re part of the Family, after all. This, as you can see, is our Sanctuary. You won’t find a safer place in all of Skyrim, I assure you, so get comfortable.”

 

I tilted my head in a slight bow. “I am honoured to be a part of your Family.”

 

“Our Family, dearest,” she corrected me. “Our Family. And, as Family, we should be on a first name basis.”

 

“Marane Lachance,” I answered without hesitation.

 

She smiled. “Astrid.” She shoved herself off of the doorway that she’d been leaning on and stepped forward. “Together, united as one, the Dark Brotherhood can accomplish anything. But, I’m sure you must be anxious to get to work. I’m arranging a job for you, but I need a bit more time. For now, go see Nazir, he’s got some smaller contracts for you.”

 

I nodded. “I will. Many will die by my blade, for the honour of the Brotherhood.”

 

“Such devout loyalty. I do appreciate it. I hope it will serve you well. Soon, the Night Mother will arrive and things around here are sure to get even more interesting. Ah, but one last thing. A welcome home present … the armor of the Dark Brotherhood. May it serve you well in all your endeavors.”

 

She handed me a bundle, and I took it gratefully, shoving down the tears of gratitude that were threatening to fall. I was feeling more than a little overwhelmed at the moment, but one thing she said still caught my ear and made me curious. “Thank you, Astrid. I just have a question … you said the Night Mother will arrive. That means she is not here?” I had personally figured that after the whole to do in Cyrodiil, the Night Mother had been brought to the only remaining chapter of the Dark Brotherhood. It was only logical, to me, so to hear that it still had not been done was surprising.

 

She shook her head. “No, as far as I know she’s always been in Cyrodiil. A few months ago, I received word from the Keeper that he had arrived in Skyrim. I was surprised, seeing as it’s been quite a while since her crypt in Bravil was utterly destroyed.” I was horrified, as this was the first I was hearing of this. I knew the Brotherhood had been wiped out, of course, but the Night Mother’s crypt destroyed? I had honestly never paused to think that anyone would dare desecrate her tomb, the thought itself went against everything I believed. Astrid shrugged, like it was no big deal. “I don’t know where he’s been this whole time, but he said he would be here soon.”

 

“Then where do the contracts come from? Is there no Listener?”

 

She chuckled. “There hasn’t been a Listener in years, not since Cyrodiil was overrun in the war with the Thalmor. But people don’t know that, of course, so they still perform the ritual … but we have eyes and ears everywhere, so we eventually hear about it and send someone to them.” My head felt like it was spinning from all of the information. Astrid seemed non-plussed by it all, and I couldn’t explain it but I somehow felt … offended? Perhaps it was my strict upbringing, but she seemed awfully nonchalant about a lot of serious matters. “Things just aren’t like the old days,” she mused. “Lots of things are different. Things have changed. Used to be the Dark Brotherhood was bound by the Five Tenets, but we stopped following those years ago. All those rules, all that discipline, and look where the Dark Brotherhood ended up. We’re the last of our kind, and we live the way we see fit. Bottom line, respect your Family. Do that, and everything else will fall into place.” She patted my shoulder and flicked her head to the side. “Be sure and introduce yourself to your new Family members. They’re all very eager to meet you.”

 

I nodded, not sure I could trust my voice. There was so much I wanted to say, so much … but I swallowed the words before they could reach my tongue. I couldn’t afford to get into an argument with Astrid the first time I set foot in the Sanctuary, and an argument is exactly where we would have ended up. This abandonment of the Five Tenets and carefree disregard for discipline more than rubbed me the wrong way … it enraged me. The Dark Brotherhood didn’t fall because of their rules and their ways, it fell because of war that ravaged Cyrodiil. Between the Thalmor and the Imperials pressing against them on either side, who wouldn’t have crumbled? I doubted Astrid’s group would have lasted either, had they been in the same position. I felt my fingers tremble ever so slightly at the rage I kept at bay, but I shoved it all down for now. Blowing up now wouldn’t do any good. I knew nobody, besides Astrid, and nobody knew me. Despite the outright blasphemy, I had to stay here and get to know this group of assassins, this Dark Brotherhood, and maybe one day I could help ease them back into the old ways. After all, the Night Mother was coming, and that thought comforted me greatly.

 

I crossed the room and left Astrid to her devices as I descended another set of stairs to get into the Sanctuary proper. I could have sworn I heard running water, and when I hit the bottom of the steps I saw why. Underneath a large glass depiction of Sithis was a waterfall, undoubtedly fed by an underground river. It was genius, really, that way if the world got turned on its ear, the Brotherhood could hole up in here and never really need to leave. The floor was all earth, and if need be I figured plants could be cultivated to grow food. It was a beautiful picture of self-sustainment. I paused just for a moment in front of the pond, looking at the depiction of Sithis, praying in my heart that I could help this wayward group of assassins find their way back into proper service.

 

Laughter broke through my thoughts and I turned to see the group standing around, exchanging stories. A male Argonian was almost doubled over as he said, “Again, again! Do the part where he tries to buy you some candy!”

 

When I saw who he was talking to, I was almost shocked to see a little girl, who appeared no older than 10. I knew this chapter was small, and fairly desperate for new blood, but were they really recruiting children? She seemed awfully nonchalant as she indulged them. “Okay, okay, here we go. _Ooh, you’re such a pretty little girl. Would the sweetie like a sweetie? How about some chocolate?_ Oh yes, please, kind sir! My mama and papa left me all alone, and I’m so very hungry. I even know a shortcut to the candy shop! _Oh ya, very good, very good. My, it is dark down this alley, isn’t it? Oh, but you are so beautiful. Such a lovely little smile. Your teeth … your teeth! No! Agghhh!”_

 

Ah, so that was it, then. _Vampire_. I wasn’t averse to such creatures by any means. Lucien worked alongside one as well, named Vicente Valtieri. He had perished the same year as Lucien. What a pity. If he could have survived the massacre the Brotherhood experienced, he could have still been alive today. What I wouldn’t have given to be able to speak to him, to hear stories of the glory days of the Brotherhood when they held all of Tamriel tightly in their grasp. Perhaps even stories of my own kin, of Lucien. There were plenty of stories that had been passed down throughout the years, but I always yearned for more.

 

My thoughts were interrupted by laughter once again, as a Dunmer mage commented through her chuckling, “Oh Babette, but you are so wicked.”

 

At that point, a Redguard whom I assumed was Nazir spoke up. “What about you, Festus? How did that last contract turn out?”

 

A large mountain of a man interrupted briefly. “Ah, yes, please, old man. Regale us with your tales of wizardry …”

 

The older mage’s eyes narrowed as he said, “Ah, the young and stupid, always mocking the experienced and brilliant. My contract went very well, I’ll have you know. Tried a new spell this time, a little something I’ve been working on in my spare time. Came _this_ close to turning that priest inside out. Damned messy.”

 

The Dunmer mage spoke up once more. “And what of your latest, Arnbjorn? Something about a Khajiit … merchant, was it?”

 

The child vampire broke out into giggles. “Oh, a big doggy chasing a little kitty! How adorable!”

 

The whole group fell into laughter once again as the mountain man’s face turned bright red. “I am not adorable, it was not funny, and he wasn’t a merchant. He was a Khajiit monk, a master of the Whispering Fang style. But now he’s dead … and I have a new loincloth.”

 

So a vampire _and_ a werewolf, in the same Sanctuary. That was certainly interesting. it seemed I was learning new things all the time about this … Family.

 

The group all broke up and went their separate ways, the Argonian drawing his sword to practice on the dummies provided, Arnbjorn taking out his axe to repair it at the workbench, and Babette, Festus, and the Dunmer taking off to a side room. Nazir looked like he was about to walk toward another set of stairs next to the waterfall, but I caught him so I could go ahead and get my contracts. Might as well start now.

 

“Ah, so you’re the newest member of our dwindling, dysfunctional little Family. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

 

I had to wonder exactly Astrid had said about me, but he probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. I simply nodded and introduced myself. “Marane Lachance. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“Save the niceties for now, I have no intention of getting invested in someone who may be dead tomorrow. If you’re still breathing in a few weeks, I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends.”

 

It probably sounded harsh to anyone else, but I knew in this business it was easy to lose an associate, and if someone were to get too close to everyone they met, they would know only heartache after heartache. It was only sensible, and I shared the sentiment, so I brushed it aside and said, “Astrid said you’d have some work for me?”

 

“Did she now?” he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows and a glint in his eye. “Well, as it turns out, there are a few lingering contracts we haven’t had the chance to complete just yet. And more, dribbling in from time to time. They can be completed at your leisure, of course, they aren’t anything too important.”

 

Every job was important to me, but I ignored the statement as I replied, “Sounds simple enough.”

 

“Oh it is. These are far from glamorous assassinations. Don’t pay a whole lot, either. But, they’ll keep you busy if you need them. I have three at the moment. You can complete them one at a time or all at once, it doesn’t make no never mind to me how you do it, as long as it’s done eventually.”

 

“Of course. I’m ready.”

 

He nodded and pulled three pieces of papers out of a side bag he kept on him and handed them over to me. “Your targets are the beggar, Narfi, an ex-miller named Ennodius Papius, and Beitild, a mine boss. When you’ve completed all of those, I can see if I have any more for you.”

 

“Do you have any intel on the targets?”

 

“Oh sure. Narfi, he’s just a hapless beggar living in a ruined house just outside of Ivarstead. Ennodius usually camps up the road from Anga’s Mill, by the river. He owned that mill at one time, but now he’s just a paranoid recluse who thinks someone is out to get him …” Nazir flashed a dangerous looking smile as he added, “… and he’s right. As for Beitild, she separated from her husband several months ago and now the two run competing mining operations, so she’s angry and desperate and if you encounter her head-on, expect a fight.” He clapped me on my shoulder as he wished me, “Happy hunting.”

 

Nazir was kind enough to show me to the sleeping quarters, which was just one large room with several beds, right above where the dining area was situated. From his indication, none of the beds were particularly claimed, they just chose one when they needed one, but he did point one which ones were least claimed for one reason or another. I thanked him and as he left, I opened the package that Astrid had given me. I ran my fingers over the dark reds and blacks of the armor, everything in me practically vibrating in excitement. I was here. I had finally done it. Despite the road blocks I had encountered, despite the stumbles I’d had, and even in spite of the disappointment I’d suffered in learning how this chapter operated, I was still a member. I was finally a Dark Sister.


	6. A little murder, a little mayhem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is getting posted a little later than I'd planned, I hit a bit of writer's block on how to proceed with this part of the story, but I got it worked out. :)

As night fell across Skyrim, I stalked through the wilderness, heading towards my prey. Since Narfi didn’t live in Ivarstead proper, I didn’t have to actually go through the small village. I didn’t like to be seen if I didn’t have to be, so instead of traveling the road, I had mostly stuck to the tundra. It had made the journey a little more difficult at times, but it was well worth it to me to be able to slip in and out unnoticed. And I was so close to my target.

 

The roar of the river drowned out most sounds, and I counted it a blessing that the ruined house the beggar lived in was so close to the water. I drew my ebony dagger as I neared the crumbling structure, keeping an eye out for guards or any other late night prowlers as I silently slipped into the house itself. The roof was gone, it was mostly just walls at this point, walls and a couple of bits of furniture. A table with a bench, and box likely used for sitting, and a sleep roll in another room. Narfi was currently sleeping, which would make my job a helluva lot easier. I counted my blessings when I could.

 

The night was silent, only the rush of the water and the singing of the insects audible as I clamped my hand over Narfi’s mouth. He awoke with a start, but not quick enough as I drew my blade across his neck, cutting swift and deep and keeping my hand over his mouth until he bled out, muffling the sounds he was trying to make. I shushed him until his eyes glazed over and I finally removed my hand, cleaning off my blade before I placed it back in its scabbard.

 

One down, two to go.

 

I didn’t want to stay in Ivarstead overnight, so I took off back across the wilderness, making for the closest town I could get to, which happened to be a small mill town called Riverwood. It was well into the night as I entered the Sleeping Giant Inn, paying for a room and collapsing on the bed without even eating a meal. My stomach grumbled in protest, but I was asleep before I could even care. Food could wait until morning, I needed sleep immediately.

 

As the morning dawned, I dragged myself out of bed, scarfing down a small breakfast before I set out on the road. I had two more targets to take down, and while Nazir had said I could do one at a time, I wasn’t setting foot inside the Sanctuary without having taken out all three. It just didn’t make sense to me to dawdle, especially not when there were paying customers waiting for a contract to be fulfilled. My training had turned me into an efficient assassin, since previously I’d had to seek out my own contracts to fulfill along with carrying them out. A small part of me, as well, wanted to impress these people, to let them know that I would be pulling my own weight. Just because I was a legacy didn’t mean I slacked off. They would know that soon enough.

 

Once I made it to the stables outside Whiterun, I chartered a carriage to take me to Windhelm so I could go after the ex-miller. It would take me probably another day or so to get fulfill that contract, but it would put me in a good position to push out toward Dawnstar and the mining boss whose life was soon forfeit. After I took care of them, I could just swing back down towards Falkreath and the Sanctuary, making one long loop as I carried out my first three contracts with the Brotherhood. All in all, so far, it was going nicely.

 

The carriage brought me to Windhelm by afternoon, so I had plenty of time to stalk up the road, locate the ex-miller, and wait. I watched him from the tree line as he spent the rest of the afternoon fishing before he cooked up his bounty, ate, and then tucked in for the night in a sleep roll as twilight set in. _Perfect_. At this hour, there was hardly any traffic on the road. I didn’t spring out immediately, I waited for a little while, watching him toss and turn as he got comfortable. Once I was confident that he was deeply asleep, I slipped from my position - a little stiff from staying in one place for hours - and made my way across the road and over to his tent. I quietly drew my dagger as I approached, circling around to where his head laid. He woke up only when the dagger slit his throat, unable to utter a sound before he passed, even if my hand hadn’t been held over his mouth.

 

Two down, one to go.

 

I immediately struck out for Dawnstar, following the road and wrapping my cloak around me as the night chill set in. Masser and Secunda rose high in the sky, bringing sufficient light to at least see the way, especially with the way it reflected off of the snow. A light aurora started pulsing in the sky, casting soft colour over the landscape, and I paused and drank it in for just a moment. There weren’t many beautiful moments I could take pause for in my life, and I didn’t expect there to be. But whenever there was, I took advantage of it, committing it to memory so I could always come back and reflect on it. The biting chill in the air, helped further by the light wind. The crunch of snow underneath my boots. The blanketing silence of the night around me. Unlike in Falkreath and the Rift, where insects sang the night away, there was no such noise up here. Here it was deathly quiet, to the point where I felt I should apologize to the trees for my light footsteps, that even that small amount of noise disturbed their rest.

 

I got into Dawnstar shortly after sunrise, my first stop being Windpeak Inn for a little sleep and some food. I didn’t intend on staying in town once I took care of business here, and I had quite the distance to cover to get back home, so I was taking advantage of what sleep I could get now. I rose in the early evening, plenty of time to do what I needed to do, and I ate a decent-sized meal before I left the Inn, stalking on down to the mine to observe my victim. My timing couldn’t have been better, as I saw her outside her mine, talking to a couple of miners before they left, presumably taking off after a long day’s work. She stood there for a moment, wiping her brow, likely ready to call it a day, herself, when I chose to strike. It was a perfect opportunity, and I couldn’t pass it up … she was alone, and the guards who were doing rounds had just left the area. I had only a few minutes, tops, but it was all I needed.

 

Her muffled screams were silenced by my hand as I drew the dagger deep across her throat. Blood spurted onto the snowy ground, already tainted by rock and dust from the mine, now coloured red with spilled blood. She struggled but for a moment, while she could, and I pulled her down to the ground to take out her leverage. My hand only left her mouth once she stopped twitching and I cleaned my blade with her shirt before I replaced it.

 

I heard footsteps approaching and my blood ran cold for just a second. It was probably a guard, doing his normal rounds, and I was still out in the open and vulnerable. I quickly scuttled over to a small copse next to the Jarl’s longhouse, diving into the bushes and waiting, silent and still, as the guard walked by and saw the body. He yelled out, raising the alarm as he drew his battle axe, but he didn’t see me as he searched the immediate area. As soon as he was gone, I slipped out of my hiding spot and climbed up the small hill behind the longhouse, taking care to move silently so as to not draw attention to myself. Some assassins may not care about being caught, but I did. It was a point of pride for myself, and I wouldn’t give it up that easily.

 

Fortunately, I was able to make it out of Dawnstar undetected, and so from there I set out for Whiterun, calling upon a shortcut I knew of to cut down the travel time between the holds. It still took a while, and it was the middle of the night by the time I made it, but it was soon enough for me as I hired a late-night carriage to take me to Falkreath. Since I now knew where the Sanctuary was, it would be easy to get there once again, but I was going to take the carriage for as much of the journey as possible. No need to unnecessarily exert myself.

 

It was in the wee hours of the morning that I finally crossed the threshold into the Sanctuary, relieved that it was over with. There was something to be said doing about three contracts all at once, one right after the other. In theory, it didn’t sound too bad, but the amount of concentration, planning, recon, and physical exertion that one went through doing it was not for the faint of heart. I would never do it any other way, because it was still efficient, but I was still human and I still felt exhausted. All I wanted to do was collapse in a bed and get some real sleep.

 

It was, therefore, somewhat disconcerting to arrive home and find a curious scene unfolding. A large wooden box was set up near the pond, and in front of it was a curious looking red haired fellow dressed in some odd jester-type of clothing. The whole Family was gathered around him, and at first I thought, _Oh Sithis, what is going on now?_ But as I drew closer, I was able to hear what the odd man was saying.

 

 

“… but the Night Mother is mother to all! It is her voice we follow! Her will! Would you dare risk disobedience? And, surely … punishment?”

 

The large werewolf butted in, scowling. “Keep talking like that, little man, and we’ll see who gets _punished_.”

 

The older mage who had a penchant for interesting spells piped up next. “Oh be quiet, you great lumbering lapdog, the man has had a long journey, you could at least be civil. Master Cicero, I for one am delighted you and the Night Mother have arrived. Your presence here signals a welcome return to tradition.”

 

My heart swelled to hear those words. _The Night Mother is here!_ Even though I was exhausted, I was now jumpy and excited at the prospect of the Unholy Matron now being here, and her Keeper along with her, which was undoubtedly who the strange man was. I was also encouraged to hear the mage speak words of support for her, for the Keeper, and for a return to tradition, something I would definitely support.

 

The jester bowed his head toward the mage as he said, “What a kind and wise wizard you are, sure to earn our Lady’s favour.”

 

Astrid looked rather uncomfortable as she said, “You and the Night Mother are, of course, welcome here, Cicero. And you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper. Understood … _husband_?”

 

The large werewolf didn’t look happy, as the last part was directed at him. He let out a soft growl and crossed his arms, still submitting to Astrid’s wishes, even if he didn’t like it.

 

Cicero didn’t seem to notice the strain in Astrid’s voice as he clapped and exclaimed, “Oh, yes yes yes! Thank you!

 

“But make no mistake,” Astrid interrupted. “ _I_ am the leader of this Sanctuary. My word is law. Are we clear on that point?”

 

“Oh yes, mistress, perfectly!” Cicero replied, and I wondered if he heard the veiled threat behind her words. She would tolerate Cicero and the Night Mother as long as they stayed out of her way and didn’t interfere. But if the Night Mother decided to assert herself … who knows how much longer they would be welcome. And that was something I didn’t think I could stand behind her for.

 

The Family dispersed, and Astrid spotted me standing by the door, a look of relief on her face as she crossed the short distance between us. “Ah, there you are. Good, I was done speaking to that muttering fool anyway. We’ve got some business to discuss.”

 

My eyebrow quirked. “You have a contract for me?

 

She smiled wickedly. “I do, indeed. You must go to the city of Markarth and speak with the apothecary’s assistant, in the Hag’s Cure. The girl’s been running her mouth, wants an ex-lover killed or something like that. Her name is Muiri. I need you to talk to her, set up the contract, and carry it out.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“Just do whatever she wishes. Be professional, represent us well, and get the job done. Since it’s your first official contract you’ll be carrying out, from start to finish, I’ll let you keep whatever Muiri pays you. She’ll be generous, I”m sure, they always are,” she said with a wink, stepping around me to climb up the steps to go back to her own quarters.

 

I turned as she was leaving and asked, “What was all that about, just now? With the Keeper? Is there a problem with the Night Mother being here?”

 

She sighed and turned back to address me, “No, not really, you have my word on that. The Night Mother represents a chapter in the Dark Brotherhood’s history that has long since been closed. Today we live by our own rules. We’re the last Sanctuary in all of Tamriel, and only by forgoing the old ways have we survived this long. My only real worry is her Keeper. I’m not sure what Cicero expects to gain by bringing the Night Mother here, but he’ll soon learn that this is _my_ Sanctuary.”

 

I said nothing as she retreated to her room, her words not settling too well with me. I didn’t know who she was lying to, me or herself, when she said that forsaking the old ways had led to their preservation. Sheer luck had done that, luck and small numbers. I snorted. Had the Aldmeri Dominion taken their war into Skyrim, this Sanctuary would have likely been lost as well. I was beginning to wonder if perhaps that hadn’t been for the best. It killed me inside to even consider it, but a dead Brotherhood might just be better than a blasphemous one.

 

As I crossed the dirt floor, intending on claiming a bed, the Keeper accosted me with introductions. “Another member of the Family! Hello, hello, so very good to meet you.”

 

I smiled, one of the few smiles I gave out these days. Some might have thought him annoying or irritating, but there was something oddly charming about him. “It’s good to meet you, too, Cicero.”

 

“And who does Cicero have the pleasure of speaking with?”

 

“My name? Is Marane Lachance.”

 

Cicero visibly startled, his eyes growing wide, questioning. “Are you … are you related to _Lucien Lachance_ … ahem, by chance? Ehhehe.”

 

I chuckled. “Yes, I am. I’m his fifth great-granddaughter.”

 

He gasped, a huge grin alighting on his face. He instantly moved forward and clasped my hand, shaking it excitedly. “You! You, my dear, are a living piece of history! Oh, Cicero is _so happy_ to meet you! It is an _honour_ to stand in the presence of a living Lachance!”

 

I felt a bit embarrassed at the attention he drew to me - as a few of the others were still in hearing distance and turned to see what the commotion was. I changed topics as smoothly as I could. “It’s good to have you here, Cicero, it’s an honour to have the Night Mother here, as well as her Keeper.”

 

“It is good to hear to say that, our welcome here has not been the … warmest. Certainly not what I expected for the Unholy Matron. But it appears that not _everyone_ here is averse to returning to the old ways. But with you here … I have great hope for the future,” he added with a wink.

 

If I was being honest, I agreed with him. Astrid certainly did skirt the line many times into the blasphemous. Had she lived when the Dark Brotherhood was in full power, she would have been severely reprimanded for her disrespect and disobedience. But this was not then, this was now, and Astrid was the one in control. And while I heartily disagreed with her, I played along with her for now. I had a feeling that I would get a chance to assert myself and bring the Family back to the old ways. Until then, I just had to bide my time.

 

Nazir was settled in at the table in the dining room, just below the sleeping area. As much as I wanted to just collapse in one of the beds _right now_ , I needed to see to it that my contracts were completely fulfilled. And that meant reporting in. So, despite my exhaustion, I trudged down the steps and sat next to Nazir, pouring a goblet of ale to quench my thirst with. “Good news for me, I trust?”

 

I nodded. “All of the targets have been eliminated.”

 

“All of them? Already? Impressive. You just might make it, yet. Here, 250 for each,” he said as he set three small bags of coins on the table.

 

“Thanks,” I replied, finishing the ale and picking them up, tucking them into my pack as I made my way back up the stairs, thankful that all business was now concluded and I could finally take what I thought to be a well-deserved nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the picture wasn't the best, it was so dark in the Sanctuary! The shot ended up darker than I even thought, and by then I'd already done the contracts so I couldn't take screenshots of that. Oh well, live and learn. I'm officially at the end of where I'd left off playing, so I'll have to resume in-game for a little bit before I continue writing!


	7. Setting them up to knock them down

I didn’t wake until the evening, when several people had gathered below the sleeping area for a meal. Not everybody, as Astrid, the werewolf, and Cicero were absent, but the others were gathered there and I figured now was as good a time as any to get to know the rest of my family.

 

The Dunmer mage, Gabriella, was reserved, but still friendly. She had a slight build and a sly smile to her, and she loved talking about alchemy. I knew a little bit of it, as mixing up poisons was always a useful skill for an assassin, but Gabriella was far more knowledgeable than I was, and offered to share some recipes with me whenever I needed them. She was particularly close with the vampire girl.

 

Well, girl was a bit of a misnomer. She looked very young, as she had been turned when she was 10 years old, but that had been 300 years ago. It was strange, to see someone so old in a body so young. While that might not be ideal for some, Babette used it to her advantage, taking her targets by surprise. For, who would suspect an innocent looking little girl of being a deadly assassin? No one would. For that reason alone she was one of the best in the sanctuary, posting up more numbers than anyone else. Not that it was a competition, necessarily, but if it was she would be winning.

 

Veezara was one I particularly bonded to quickly, both of us living out a legacy. I was a Lachance, and he was the last remaining Shadowscale, an Argonian born under the sign of the shadow. Such hatchlings were raised to be an assassin from birth, normally serving the King of Black Marsh, but the Shadowscales were now defunct, and he served the Dark Brotherhood instead. He understood, perhaps better than anyone else in the Sanctuary, how I felt, how I felt driven to prove myself, to succeed, to bring honour to not only this Family, but to my birth family. I felt our connection draw us closer, and I think he sensed it, too, as he threw me a sneaky grin. It felt good to have someone of such a similar upbringing available, and I had a feeling we might become the closest out of all the Family.

 

The older mage, Festus Krex, was the self-described cranky uncle of the Family. He had been a magical prodigy, displaying advanced skills at a very young age. He had initially gone to the College of Winterhold, but left after two years, saying it was “too boring”, that the magic they practiced was too safe. He wanted to fully develop his destruction skills, and the Dark Brotherhood allowed him not only the luxury of researching, but also practicing said skills. He offered to teach me a little, if I was willing, but I had little natural magical ability. I had learned a little Restoration, just in case I didn’t have a health potion on me when I needed it, but that was the extent of my skills. I preferred to depend more on my two daggers - and, failing that, my bow - than magicka. But, a good assassin had an arsenal of skills at their disposal, and if he was willing, I would take a little instruction. He certainly had a unique outlook on being a mage assassin. “Just because I’m now a professional assassin, don't think I skulk around in the shadows like a skeever and stab people. I walk up to my target, introduce myself, melt their skin off, and then run like the wind. Works every time.” 

 

 

This evening, Cicero was the topic of conversation, especially considering that the jester was not present, along with Astrid and, I learned, her husband, Arnbjorn. Their response was fairly encouraging for me, as even the ones who weren’t supportive seemed neutral enough that I felt they could be swayed to accept the old ways.

 

Festus, along with myself, was one of the more outspoken in support of the Night Mother and her Keeper. “Their arrival is the best thing that's happened to this Sanctuary in years. Astrid is an effective leader, but we've been rudderless for too long. Scrounging for contracts, abandoning the Tenets. The Dark Brotherhood has been reduced to a group of common cutthroats. Frankly, it's embarrassing.”

 

Gabriella was equally as openly supportive. She nodded as she interjected, “Without the Night Mother, there is no Dark Brotherhood. The Matron deserves our unwavering support and respect. Though I admit, I find her Keeper a bit too exuberant for my liking.”

 

Babette was a bit more reserved in her opinion, sipping a blood potion thoughtfully before she added, “Two hundred years ago, I would have lain down my life for the Unholy Matron. But that age has long since passed. Astrid is my matron now, I follow her, but … if she wanted to reinstitute the old ways, I would follow.”

 

“What of you, Marane?” Gabriella asked.

 

I considered my words carefully before I responded. “I was raised in the old ways, trained to respect the Night Mother and the Listener - and, barring not having a Listener, her Keeper. This arrangement you have, of having a leader other than a Listener, it’s … very strange to me. I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me a little uncomfortable, but I have known it is my destiny to join the Dark Brotherhood and fulfill my legacy, and I will do so, no matter what. I would, however, much prefer that this Family went back to the old ways, of observing the five tenants and seeking a Listener.” Veezara had remained pointedly silent through our discussion, and I turned to the Argonian beside me and asked, “What about you, Veezara? What do you think?”

 

He set down his mug of ale before he answered, “Truthfully? I'm not entirely sure. It's not that I don't have the utmost respect for Sithis, and the Night Mother, and the ancient ways, I do. But I've never been much for religion. I kill because it's what I've been trained to do. It's all I know. So long as Astrid is happy, I'm happy.”

 

I nodded. I could respect that, knowing what it was like being raised in this life. He, however, had only been afforded the physical aspect of assassinations, not the spiritual side that the original Dark Brotherhood adhered to. That had been an integral part of my childhood and adolescence, committing the knowledge of Sithis and the Night Motherhood and the Dark Brotherhood’s role in their worship to heart from a young age. I couldn’t imagine separating the two, but for Veezara, the two were already separate. He at least seemed open to it, however, and I felt that once I could show him the joy of the spiritual side of the Brotherhood, he would wonder how he ever lived without it. It was definitely something to work on.

 

Nazir had said nothing during our exchange, the former Alik’r remaining silent and mysterious, just as he normally was. He never said much about his life before joining the Brotherhood, only that he was originally from Hammerfell. From the hints he dropped, it seemed he’s worked for the Alik’r and was a mercenary before joining this Family, but he clamped up on details. Fine, he could be all dark and mysterious, then. He at least seemed more friendly than when we first met. I suppose my feat of taking out all three targets one right after the other had impressed him and let him know that I wasn’t some newcomer that would fuck up and get themselves killed on the job. I didn’t boast my own skills, I liked to let them speak for myself, and it seemed they spoke to him plenty.

 

Festus had noticed his silence, stating, “You’ve been awfully quiet, Nazir.”

 

The Redguard smiled, his white teeth shining against his dark lips. “I don't like mimes, minstrels, thespians, acrobats, jugglers, troubadours or tumblers. Flutists give me a headache. I _particularly_ hate jesters. As a rule, I'm also not crazy about the corpses of old women. For the Night Mother, I'll make an exception. But Astrid is the only mistress I serve.”

 

So, I had to work on nudging Nazir towards the cause of the old ways as well. At least he wasn’t outright hostile to the idea, like Arnbjorn was, like Veezara he just didn’t see the connection between the physical jobs and the spiritual aspect. I hoped that, in time, I could show him how fulfilling it was. For now, my actions had to speak for themselves, and I was more than happy to do so. In fact, I would be setting out later in the night to head to Markarth to pick up my own contract. From what Gabriella said, it was unusual for someone to set up their own contract, but it seemed Astrid seemed intent on possible grooming me for being more than just a simple assassin. Or perhaps she just wanted to be on the good side of a Lachance. Either way, props to her for being smart. As I rose from the table to leave, Babette offered, “You're headed to the Hag's Cure, right? It's a good shop. You should examine their wares. Never pass up the chance to buy a good potion ... or poison.”

 

She winked at the last sentence and I chuckled. “Of course not. I know Bothela fairly well, I think she’ll be pleased to see me again.”

 

With that, I stole away from the Sanctuary, packing light as I had a house in Markarth with supplies that I could utilize once I got there. I hadn’t visited that home since I’d left for Windhelm to see Aventus Aretino. Even though it had only been a week since I’d last been there, it seemed like a whole lifetime ago. Everything had been so different then. Instead of being a part of the Dark Brotherhood, I had been desperately searching them out, trying to find them. In that time, I had not only carried out one contract for Aventus, I had indeed found the Dark Brotherhood, joined them, and completed three contracts for them so far, not counting taking out the Khajiit in the abandoned shack with Astrid.

 

Most people would probably be wary of traveling in the Reach alone, much less at night, considering not only the bandits but the Forsworn who were persistent in their presence. They made travel especially treacherous for some, but I had long memorized their patterns and their camps, and I was able to easily slip by them. They never even knew I was there, even when I did skirt close to them. I was one with the shadows, and had I wished, I could have taken out many of them, but I let them be. I didn’t believe in unnecessary, gleeful murder, only that set forth from a contract. Excessive murder was just plain wasteful. Quality over quantity and all that.

 

I made it into Markarth just after sunrise, when the sun was still bright and shining in the morning sky. The marketplace was bustling and busy, as it usually was at this time, but my target for the day laid further in the city. As I made my way back to The Hag’s Cure, which was tucked into the back corner of the rock-hewn hold capitol, I was accosted temporarily by a Vigilant of Stendarr. “Excuse me, but do you know anything about this house? Seen anyone enter or leave?”

 

I shook my head, having long figured the house abandoned. I had been curious about purchasing it before, but the Jarl’s steward said it wasn’t for sale at this time. I assumed, therefore, that the owner just must be away, but I had never seen anyone coming or going since. “No, I haven’t.”

 

“Heh. Seems no one in this city has,” he mumbled, partially to himself as I slipped by him, unwilling to entertain further conversation. I didn’t know why this Vigilant was so interested in an abandoned house, but I had other business I had to attend to, and I didn’t want to be waylaid any further than I had been already. Yngvar the Singer shrugged to me as I walked past, having witnessed the interaction. It seemed he was just as clueless as I was, and probably hoped that the Vigilant would leave, soon. He was hired muscle for the Silver-Bloods, and while the guards normally looked the other way with his illicit activities, it probably itched him to have another set of authoritative eyes looking his way. I, thankfully, was going to be leaving the city fairly soon.

 

The familiar, musty smell of the apothecary washed over me as I entered the shop. Bothela looked up to see who had entered, and smiled to see me. I had bought from her before, and was very good at spending coin at her shop for both potions and ingredients. “What can I get for you, today?” she asked as I descended the steps.

 

“Just a couple of health potions today,” I replied, not really needed to purchase much at the moment. She pulled out several different varieties and I decided on one large and a couple of smaller potion bottles of health potion, deciding I could really never be too Careful. As I slipped the bottles into my pack after handing over the Septims she’d asked for, I asked, “Where is your assistant? Muiri?”

 

“Oh, she’s in the back, studying,” Bothela replied, leaning a little closer as she added, “I have to keep an eye on her when she’s mixing, she doesn’t always put the ingredients in the right order, if she’s not careful she’ll turn a harmless potion into a poison. Can’t be selling stuff like that in my shop.”

 

I nodded. “Could I speak with her?”

 

The old woman waved her hand. “Go on, just make it quick. I don’t want her getting too distracted.”

 

“It won’t take long,” I promised as I turned and ascended the stairs into the little living area that was set up beside the shop. They called it “the back”, but really it was the side, if anything. It held several barrels scattered here and there, no doubt filled with various ingredients and stock. Beyond was a couple of beds and a table and chairs set up along with a cooking pot. It was a neat, little contained space that was perfect for the alchemist and her assistant, though hopefully Muiri would be learning and perfecting her craft and then moving on sooner or later - though, according to Bothela, that seemed to be later rather than sooner.

 

The Breton woman was bent over a book, studying as I approached. She didn’t even notice me at first, not until I pulled out another chair and sat near her. “What is it? What do you want?”

 

I leaned forward and spoke softly, so Bothela wouldn’t hear us. “The Dark Brotherhood has answered your call, Muiri.”

 

“The Dark Brotherh … oh. Oh! My goodness, you’re really here! The Black Sacrament … it actually worked?”

 

I nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

 

“What I need?” She paused for just a moment, taking a breath and gathering herself before she answered, “What I need is for Alain Dufont to die. I want him hunted down and murdered like the dog he is.”

 

I waited to see if she would divulge any more information, but when she stayed silent, I prompted her with, “I’ll need a little more to go on than that …”

 

“I didn’t know when we were … with each other … but Alain is actually a leader of a band of cutthroat bandits. They’re holed up in some old Dwarven ruin called Raldbthar, near Windhelm. They use it as their base, where they stage their raids. I want you to go to that ruin, find Alain Dufont, and kill him. I don’t care about his friends, do whatever you want with them, but Alain has to die!”

 

“It will be done.”

 

She smiled. “Excellent. Once Alain is dead, I’ll pay you, in gold. I’ve saved up a bit. I hope that’ll do. But, well … there is one more thing, if you’re interested?”

 

My ears perked. “I’m listening.”

 

“If you can, I want you to kill someone else as well. You don’t have to, it’s not an official part of our deal, but if you do … I’ll pay you more. It’s Nilsine Shatter-Shield, in Windhelm. If Nilsine dies, too, I’ll make it worth your while.”

 

An interesting proposition, one that hinted that there was more to this story than a jilted lover. My curious nature prompted me to ask, “Tell me the full story, why do you want Alain dead?”

 

She sighed, her smile falling off her face as she thought back. “I went to Windhelm to see the Shatter-Shields. They were old and dear friends of mine and … in mourning. Friga, Nilsine’s sister, had died recently. Murdered, actually. I … I met Alain at the tavern, while I was drinking my sadness away. He was handsome and charming and knew just what to say. He called me the “beautiful lily” of his dreams. He just … he made all the pain go away. But it was all lies! Alain used me. He ruined my name, destroyed my friendship with the Shatter-Shields.” She looked up from the table to lock eyes with me, her earnestness radiating off of her. “Do you know why Alain was in Windhelm? He’d heard about Friga’s murder. He wanted to befriend the family in their grief … and rob them blind. Alain _used_ me to get close to my friends. And now they all think I’m some kind of monster. Alain Dufont took my life, and now I’m taking his. I think it’s only fair.”

 

“And what about Nilsine Shatter-Shield?”

 

Her whole body tensed as she replied, “I was like a daughter to Tova, a sister to Nilsine and Friga. But the family refuses to believe my innocence, no matter what I say! Couldn’t they understand that I was used? That I was grieving Friga, too? No, they treated me like garbage and threw me away. With Nilsine dead, maybe then Tova will realize what she’s lost, hmm? Maybe then she’ll see that I was just as much a daughter as the others. And if not … may she drown in her own tears.”

 

The last part was spoken with the viciousness of a hurt and broken heart. And how could I deny the salve of Sithis? “Is there anything else?” I asked, trying to make sure all my bases were covered.

 

Muiri nodded. “I planned to kill Alain myself, you know. Nilsine, too. But I lost my nerve. I even brewed a special poison called Lotus Extract. Maybe you could use it? Just coat your weapon with it, then … well, you get the idea.”

 

It wasn’t necessary for me, but even I knew of poetic justice, and I nodded.

 

Muiri rose from the table, tracing her footsteps back to one of the alchemy tables in the shop, taking out two small vials from a small compartment in one and handing them to me. Her eyes shone in the candle light, her hurt and determination setting in her voice as she whispered, “Make them all pay for what they’ve done to me.”

 

 

That, I could do.


	8. When Mourning Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a short chapter, but things are in development, starting in the next chapter!

The biting wind that whipped around outside of the city of Windhelm was held at bay by the tall, stone walls. The barrier they provided meant the citizens felt little more than a calm breeze as they strolled through the marketplace, bartering and buying everything from clothes and food to weapons and trinkets. It wasn’t too crowded at this hour of Loredas, but that only made the job of tracking my target that much easier. After slipping some gold to a beggar, she had discretely pointed out Nilsine Shatter-Shield and pocketed the generous gold I’d given her before scuttling off to the Grey Quarter. The amount I’d given her had implied her silence, and she was smart. Silda hadn’t survived in the harsh environment of Eastmarch hold this long by being stupid, and that preservation instinct was what sent her to the other side of the city until I took care of business.

 

I stood at the very edge of the marketplace, concealed almost entirely by the curve of the wall that delineated a pathway that lead back to the entrance of Windhelm. Nilsine carried a basket with her as she bought food, stopping to chat with other citizens as she went about her morning, completely unsuspecting that she would soon be serving Sithis in the Void. My fingers itched as my palm settled on the hilt of my dagger, resisting the urge to go ahead and draw it just yet. My blade was already coated in Lotus Extract, I had only to watch and wait and see exactly where Nilsine would go after her market venture, as that would determine where I dropped her.

 

After she spent more than enough time making her rounds, she started walking towards me, towards the path I stood at. I stayed still, slunk into the shadows, waiting until she passed me until I pushed myself off of the cold stone wall and silently followed her. I drew my dagger but I kept it down, at my side, concealed by my cloak until I was ready to strike.

 

Nilsine hadn’t seen me, didn’t know that I was following her, that death itself was stalking her. She hummed a tune as she strolled down the path, just like I’m sure she did every day, only turning and ducking into another small pathway would take her through the graveyard and back to the residential district. There was another, quicker way to get back to her house, no doubt, but the pull of her dead sister more than anything likely pulled on her steps, moving her to walk through the graveyard on her way home. The thought only briefly flash through my mind and left as quickly as it came. I didn’t care why she chose the route she did, I cared only that I carried out the contract. Even if this wasn’t a part of the _real_ contract Muiri had offered, I wanted to fulfill her every request, wanted her to know that the Dark Brotherhood would help her in every way she needed, that we were a dependable organization. _Be professional_. Isn’t that what I’d been told? I was simply looking after my client.

 

I followed her onto the short walkway between the main path and the graveyard, my eyes darting everywhere to look for guards and other citizens. We were alone, completely alone, and so my time had come. I set upon her quickly, so quick she was almost completely thrown off balance as my hand muffled her startled scream while my dagger found its target between her ribs. Because I wanted the poison itself to end her, not my blade, I held her tightly against me until she could struggle no more, neither against me nor the poison coursing through her system. I let her body drop to the ground, landing near her dropped basket, its contents scattered around her. I hurriedly wiped my blade of her blood and slipped out of the alley, thanking Sithis that I was near the entrance to Windhelm and could make a very quick escape. Nobody even looked at me twice as I exited, and I smirked, wondering what they would make of her body once they found her.

 

 

Now, however, it was time to get on to the _real_ target: Alain Dufont.

 

From what Muiri had told me, he resided in Raldbthar with a group of bandits, so getting to him would be the interesting part. No doubt he thought himself safe and secure in his Dwemer base, but I was no ordinary mercenary. I was a Dark Sister, and nothing would stand in the way between me and my target.

 

I moved almost completely silently along the road between Windhelm and the Dwemer ruin, the only sound I couldn’t muffle being the crunch of snow beneath my boots. This was why I disliked Skyrim, sometimes it was impossible to be completely silent and leave no trace, and that got under my skin. I wanted each of my kills to be perfect, and in the tundra it just wasn’t always possible. One could get close, but never _there_ , and that bothered my perfectionist tendencies to no end. But, I did what I could with the circumstances that I had. That was how I came to be a member of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim, and I would never question my destiny, not when it came to the Brotherhood.

 

I drew my bow this time as I came upon Raldbthar, already spotting three bandits guarding the outside. The hill up the side was too steep, I wasn’t going to be able to climb up and slip inside without taking them out, but I had no problem with doing just that. Taking shelter behind some trees, I notched an arrow and carefully aimed before letting it fly, the sharpened point burying itself in the skull of the first one. He fell immediately and the clatter from his armor hitting the stone steps drew the other two to his position. I cursed under my breath as I pulled out another arrow and tracked the second bandit, hesitating only for a moment before I let the second arrow fly. It found its target as well, the draw of my bow enough to send it _through_ his neck with some force, embedding in a crack in the stone as the second bandit bled out. The third was now fully enraged, looking around wildly, shouting as he challenged the unknown intruder as he brandished his iron warhammer. His stillness only made it easier to aim my shot, right in the heart, and his look of surprise was brief before he fell.

 

When it came to archery, I was a fair shot with a bow, but I really preferred to take out my targets with a dagger. I liked getting up close and personal, but sometimes distance couldn’t be avoided. I kept my bow handy as I crept up the steps and entered the ruin, expecting to run into more bandits.

 

And I did. The first was extremely easy to dispatch, and I left them bleeding out into their sleep roll. The second, third, and fourth were all lounging in a chamber that looked like they’d fashioned into a sleeping and cooking area. In the time it took them to scramble and grab their weapons, I’d already taken them all out, silently skulking past their fallen bodies, leaving the ebony arrows where they rested. I had plenty to spare so far, I wasn’t so desperate as to cut arrows out of bodies to see if they were any good or not.

 

Alain Dufont himself was further in, surrounded by a few bandits that had slightly better weapons and armor, like they served him personally as a bodyguard or some similar type of office. I smirked as I dipped an arrow in Lotus Extract. _Your friends won’t help you today, Alain_. Once I’d thoroughly coated the arrow, I took careful aim from behind a doorway before I took my shot, putting the arrow exactly where I’d wanted to place it, in the meat of his shoulder. Initially non-lethal … until the poison set in.

 

At seeing their leader shot, the rest of them roused to take out the threat, but they were so scattered and disorganized that none of them even got near me before I took them out. It was so quick, Alain was still gasping on the floor as I drew near, the poison doing its work but not quite finished yet. He worked to get out, “Who are you?”

 

Smirking behind my mask, I replied simply, “Muiri’s revenge.” Alain’s eyes widened, but his throat was swelling far too much to reply. I watched as he started foaming at the mouth before he gurgled and finally gave up the ghost.

 

I slipped out of the ruin like a shadow, my contract now fulfilled. All that was left now was to report back to Muiri, collect the reward, and return to the Sanctuary. After that … perhaps I could be afforded a little rest. Not for long, of course, as there were always contracts to fulfill, contacts to talk to, murder to arrange. But a day, if only I could rest and recharge for a day, that would make it a lot easier.

 

By the time the carriage I’d hired dropped me off outside of Markarth, it was well into the evening, past closing time for Bothela’s shop. No matter, I had a feeling where I could find Muiri, and my hunch paid off as I entered the Silver-Blood Inn and saw her sitting in a corner, drinking alone. I dropped my mask but kept my hood up, the innkeeper and several patrons here already knowing me. It would seem too suspicious if I tried to keep myself completely anonymous, but the hint of a familiar face under a hood would serve to allay any concerns. I bought one bottle of ale before I joined Muiri at her table, taking a long sip as I sat down.

 

The apothecary’s assistant jumped a little when I sat, surprised to see me. She was immediately down to business, however, as the first words out of her mouth were, “Well, what news? Is Alain …” She smartly trailed off, eyeing the patrons around her.

 

I set my bottle on the table and replied, soft enough to avoid any other ears, “Alain Dufont is dead.”

 

She smiled. “That bastard got exactly what he deserved.” She looked around for a moment before she pulled a purse out of her skirts and pushed it toward me. “And … I heard about Nilsine. You’ve more than fulfilled your part of the bargain. Please, take this,” she said as she handed me a ring, “as payment, and a symbol of my affection. I’ll never forget you.” Her eyes shone in the candlelight and she pursed her lips like she was thinking. She then leaned forward and tentatively brushed her lips against mine. I closed my eyes, allowing her action as she then pressed firmly, wanting more but holding back. “Thank you,” she whispered as we parted, and she stood and exited the Inn, heading back to the shop for the night.

 

I finished my bottle and left the Inn, stopping in at my little abode, intending on sleeping there for the night. I wasn’t about to travel at night at the moment, not if it wasn’t necessary, and outside of the Sanctuary, my Markarth house was the safest place in Skyrim. As I entered and made my way to the bed, I made a mental note to grab a few things before I left, things I either might need or might want while in Falkreath, as I didn’t know how long it might be until I could come by here again. That was all that was on my mind as I drifted off into a deep sleep, still wearing the armor that I hadn’t bothered to take off as I’d fallen into bed.


	9. When silence dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, when it comes to video games lately I've been wrapped up in Fallout 4 (plotting and planning for lots of little stories in that 'verse :) ). Also, no screenshot for this chapter, I ended up structuring it a little differently than I planned when I played it out in game, so as a result I don't have a screenshot to go along with it. Sorry.

The next morning, I got an early start, packing up and slipping out of the city just before dawn. I contracted a carriage to take me to Falkreath and from there I walked to the Sanctuary. Since I’d taken the carriage most of the way, it was around midday by the time I entered through the Black Door, plenty of time to rest and spend a little time with my Family before I picked up another contract. A feeling of relief and happiness welled up in me as I descended the stairs. And why shouldn’t it? I finally felt like I was well and truly home, where I was supposed to be. It was the most comforting feeling I’d ever experienced.

 

When my feet hit the large landing where Astrid’s quarters were, she sidled out of her room, greeting me. “Ah, you’re back. So, how went your first real contract? A bit more exciting than what Nazir’s been offering, I’d wager.”

 

I shrugged. She likely knew little of my past and my training and how I’d been occupying myself until I’d joined the Family. While this had indeed been a little more involved than the previous contracts Nazir had handed me, I’d had more intricate ones that I’d performed in the past. Something in me, however, wasn’t willing to fully trust Astrid just yet, and so I didn’t want to reveal everything about me and my past. Instead, I replied, “I did what was requested, nothing more.”

 

She smirked. “Of course, dear, of course. And, from what my little ravens tell me, you handled yourself quite well. Now,” she leaned against her doorway, “I need your assistance with a matter of a more … personal nature.”

 

My eyebrow twitched, wanting to raise in questioning, but I repressed the urge. “Is something wrong?”

 

“It’s Cicero. Ever since he arrived, his behaviour’s been … well, erratic would be an understatement. I do believe he is truly mad. But it’s worse than that. He’s taken to locking himself in the Night Mother’s chamber and talking. To someone. In hushed, but frantic tones. Who is he speaking with? What are they planning? I fear treachery.”

 

Oh for Sithis’ sake. While I didn’t think that Cicero was quite … all there … the read I got from him was that he was extremely loyal to the Family, to the Night Mother and Sithis. Like myself, he held to the Five Tenants, which would prohibit him from plotting against a member of the Family. I didn’t know what Astrid was planning, but I was immediately suspicious. The way that she was carefully wording what she was saying … it seemed very deliberate. For some reason, I couldn’t quite pin down why, but I felt immediately protective of Cicero, one of the true servants of Sithis in this Family. But at the same time, something stopped me before I completely shut her down. I was a new member of the fold, she might not appreciate being chastised by me, even though I was far truer a Dark Sister than she was. _Alright, Astrid, I’ll play your little game._ Adjusting my stance, I couldn’t completely keep the snark out of my reply, but I softened it as I said, “Astrid, you’re being a bit … paranoid.”

 

“Maybe so, but healthy paranoia has saved this Sanctuary before, and my gut’s telling me the demented little fool is up to something.”

 

_Perhaps Cicero isn’t the only one who’s a little mad around here._ “What do you propose, then?”

 

She smiled, sickly sweet, as she purred. “Dear Sister, I need you to steal into that chamber and eavesdrop on their meeting. Of course, it’ll be no use clinging to the shadows, they’ll see you for sure. You’ll need to a hiding place, somewhere they’d never think to look … somewhere like inside the Night Mother’s coffin.”

 

My fist clenched underneath my robe, the anger and ire rising inside me. How dare she suggest I desecrate the Unholy Matron in such a way? I reeled myself in, calming my breathing before I raged. “That seems so … disrespectful.”

 

She brushed me off as I knew she would. “Be that as it may, we have no other choice. You need to remain unseen. Now go, eat, rest. And this evening, find out who the jester is meeting with.”

 

Something about this still didn’t quite add up. Sure she was suspicious of Cicero, but who exactly did she think would meet with him? From talking with the others, I couldn’t think of anyone who would turn on Astrid. Was there any legitimate concern, or was this simply a part of her paranoia? “Any idea on _who_ would conspire with Cicero?”

 

“Ah, that’s the real question, isn’t it? The jester enters, seals the door, and the conversation begins. So someone must be waiting for him inside. Any one of us could enter that chamber silently. Unnoticed. But who amongst us would dare conspire against the Sanctuary? The very thought breaks my heart.”

 

_I’m sure._ “What do you think he is planning, exactly?”

 

She huffed. “Isn’t it obvious? As the Night Mother’s Keeper, he believes he’s entitled to the rule of this Sanctuary. Cicero will cite our independence as the need to revert to the Old Ways. He’ll claim we’re undisciplined, unruly. Heretical, even. Ironically, the Night Mother could prove to be just as much a victim. The queen in a fool’s twisted game of chess.”

 

Wow, Astrid truly had delusions of grandeur. And as far as being heretical, perhaps she was hitting the nail on the head? I hadn’t voiced my opinions, but I agreed with everything she had asserted. This Family definitely had potential, but only if they came back to the Old Ways, embraced the Five Tenants once again, begged forgiveness for abandoning it for so long. Clearly, however, a more nuanced approach was needed, as Astrid clearly thought any direct course of action was a move against _her_ , personally, and therefore a move against the Sanctuary as a whole. Fucked up, yes, but never let it be said that delusions were logical. I was quickly growing tired of this game and simply asked, “Is there anything else I should know?”

 

“I don’t believe so, but I should be able to instruct you further after you return to me. It depends on what you learn. Just be sure you’re in the chamber _before_ the meeting begins, I don’t think you’ll be able to enter after the door is sealed.”

 

I nodded as I left her and made for the rest of the Sanctuary, a growing feeling settling in the pit of my stomach that made me feel uneasy and off kilter. I did not trust Astrid, I hadn’t trusted her from the beginning. But what exactly was Cicero doing? I didn’t think he would truly try to betray a Sister, but he seemed to be doing _something_ that was arousing suspicion. Hopefully this was all a misunderstanding and I could easily allay Astrid’s paranoia. What I was going to have to do in order to achieve this, however, almost made me feel sick. I mentally cursed her for putting me in this position. Something in me growled and snapped, wanting to resist this, to fight against it, but I couldn’t. Not for now. But Astrid would regret forcing a Lachance into this, I would make sure of it. This was not befitting of me and my legacy, and I did not appreciate being used like this.

 

The others were gathered for a midday meal, and I joined them, the fellowship soothing the ragged edges that Astrid had irritated. Cicero wasn’t there, and of course neither was Arnbjorn, but everyone else had gathered. After lunch, I followed Festus into his little library, taking him up on his offer to teach me a little. Despite my lack of magicka, he was able to give me a few pointers that could help me if I ever found myself in a sticky situation. Over the course of his instruction, I casually brought up what Astrid had told me, wondering what he would say. Out of all of the Family members, he was one of the most outspoken about wanting to return to the Old Ways, and I was curious how he would take this news.

 

I couldn’t say I was entirely surprised when he outright laughed. “Ha! And would that surprise anyone? This Sanctuary’s a mess. Wouldn’t surprise me if somebody’s talking to the fool on the sly, making deals. And no, before you ask, it’s not me. I know which side of my bread is buttered on.”

 

Of course, I hadn’t taken the old mage for a fool, and I told him as much. He chuckled and sent me on my way. I ended up being able to discreetly talk with most everyone else by dinner time, save for Arnbjorn and Nazir, and those I had spoken with had seemed surprised and had expressed support for Astrid. While I admired their loyalty, it was a bit misplaced, though perhaps I could change that at some point. No matter, I had a feeling this was all just Astrid’s own paranoia acting up and I would find nothing on note in the room once I attended this so called _meeting_.

 

I ran into Nazir as I was on my way to grab a quick dinner before I slipped into the Night Mother’s room, still a bit uneasy at this whole business. I asked him what he thought of this whole secret meeting business and what Astrid suspected, and his reply was actually encouraging. I wasn’t sure if he said this for my sake or not, but he raised an eyebrow in surprise as he said, “Does she? Listen, Sister … Astrid is my mistress, and I worship the ground she walks on. But this Cicero business has her a bit … paranoid.”

 

I chuckled. “I thought as much, myself. I don’t think I will truly find out anything of worth tonight, I haven’t read any of you as the type who would turn on her. But, if this is what she wants me to do, then I will do it.”

 

He nodded. “See that you do.” The implication behind his statement was unmistakeable. I needed to find some sort of proof to allay Astrid’s fears, one way or another. If I didn’t, I would be next on her chopping block after Cicero. I really did not want to leave this Family, especially not after I had bonded to the other members so quickly, but if I had to run out with Cicero and the Night Mother and form our own chapter, then so be it. That would be the much harder path, one I was not sure I could follow. It would be scary and new, whereas here, in this Sanctuary, it was familiar and safe. No matter, I would worry about that when the time came. For now, I had to prepare to hide for the meeting.

 

After I scarfed down an early meal, I stole into the Night Mother’s room and, against everything I believed in, I picked the lock to the Night Mother’s coffin and slipped inside, closing it behind me. Every instinct in me was screaming at me to stop, to turn around, but I was committed to this path, and I would see it through. I settled down my nerves as I tucked myself into the coffin, just room enough to squeeze in next to the Unholy Matron herself. Had it been any other corpse, I would have been creeped out, but for some reason I felt oddly _calm_ next to her, like I was next to my own birth mother. Despite that, I hoped I wouldn’t be waiting long, as quarters were just a little too close for my own liking.

 

Fortunately, it wasn’t long after that I heard footsteps draw near, a familiar humming accompanying them as the door was shut and Cicero traversed the space, securing the room before he wandered close to the coffin I was hiding in. I held my breath, tense and anxious, wondering what was going to happen next. I hadn’t seen anyone when I entered initially - I was in the only true hiding place in the entire room - and I didn’t care how stealthy the rest of the Family thought they were, the only other person who had entered the room was Cicero himself. I’d just known this was a bust, and now I was stuck here in the Night Mother’s coffin until Cicero finished whatever it was he was doing.

 

His humming ceased as Cicero chuckled a little to himself and said, “Are we alone? Yes, yes … alone. Sweet solitude. No one will hear us, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan. The others … I’ve spoken to them, and they’re coming around, I know it. The wizard, the alchemist … perhaps even the Argonian and the un-child … what about you? Hmm? Have you … have you _spoken_ to anyone?” A quick exhale, like a sigh of disappointment, and then, “No, no, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing, and the saying! And what do you do? Nothing! Not … not that I’m angry! No, never! Cicero understands. Heh. Cicero _always_ understands. And obeys! You will talk when you’re ready, won’t you? Won’t you … sweet Night Mother.”

 

I felt a bit sad for Cicero as he spoke. Here he was, trying even harder than I to convert the others. Perhaps even more than me he wanted us to return to the Old Ways. Not because it would put him in power, but because that was the way things were _supposed_ to be. The way this Sanctuary operated now, it felt disjointed, off-center. _Not right._ It was natural to want to nudge us back on course, and while I certainly wanted to do that, Cicero was trying to take the faster road while I was on the slow path. I wanted to get everything back to normal as soon as possible, too, but I understood the need for subtlety in some situations. I was going to have to wrack my brain to think of a way to smooth things over with Astrid while still encouraging Cicero at the same time.

 

At that moment, a strange sensation took over me. I felt a strange pressure at the back of my skull, not painful just present. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, hoping the sensation would pass. It lessened slightly, and then I heard a voice. Not in the room with Cicero, but in my own head. _Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero. Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice, for he is not the Listener._

 

I stood there in stunned silence for a moment, wondering if what just happened had really truly happened. Outside the coffin, Cicero was still speaking. “Oh, but how can I defend you? How can I exert your will? If you will not speak? To anyone!”

 

Once again, the voice whispered to me, _Oh, but I will speak. I will speak to you. For you are the one. Yes, you. You who share my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task: journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre._

 

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Could this really be happening? Cicero rambled on, just outside the coffin, completely unaware of the enormity of what was taking place just inches from where he stood. Instead, he lamented himself. “Poor Cicero has failed you, failed you! Poor Cicero is _sorry_ , sweet Mother. I’ve tried, so very hard. But I just can’t find the _Listener_.”

 

_Tell Cicero the time has come. Tell him the words he has been waiting for all these years …_

 

_Darkness rises when silence dies._


	10. Patience

I felt like I was frozen, just standing there in the coffin, leaning slightly against the door. I was mentally reeling from the realization that the _Night Mother had spoken to me_. That meant that I was the Listener. I, Marane Lachance, the Listener. I had always wanted to work hard for the Brotherhood, work my way up the ranks, but this? This was an instant promotion straight to the top. Or, it would be if this Sanctuary ran according to tradition. My real position would likely not change at all. But still … my whole body tingled with the warm sensation of satisfaction and pleasure that I had been chosen for this sacred duty. I would definitely have to make note of this in my journal. Even write to my parents. They would certainly be more than pleased to learn of this development. I was so entranced in my thoughts, lost in the moment’s reverie that I hadn’t even noticed that Cicero had moved closer to the sarcophagus and was opening it until I heard the squeak of the hinges and suddenly I fell into the Keeper’s arms.

 

He startled, almost dropping me before he suddenly gripped me and spun me around, shoving me against the nearby wall and pulling a dagger on me. “What treachery is this? Defiler! Debaser and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother’s coffin, something I would have expected better of from a _Lachance_. Explain yourself! Speak, _worm,_ ” he shouted and sneered, pressing the ebony metal of his dagger into my neck.

 

“The Night Mother spoke to me!” I blurted out quickly, having no time for subtlety in my answers.

 

“She … _spoke_ to you?” he questioned, incredulous at first before his eyes narrowed. “More treachery. More trickery and deceit! You lie! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener, and there is … _no_ … Listener.”

 

Fuck but was he ever escalating this quickly. There was no time for pretense as I blurted out the phrase she had given me, “Darkness rises when silence dies!”

 

His body went rigid against me, surprise colouring his features. “What did you say?”

 

“Darkness rises when silence dies. That’s what she told me to tell you.”

 

“But those are the words, the Binding Words! Written in the Keeping Tomes … the signal so that I would know. Mother’s only way of talking to sweet Cicero … then … it is true!” His face lit up as he let go of me, dancing and clapping and laughing as he loudly exclaimed, “She is back! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen _you_! Ha ha ha ha! All hail the Listener!”

 

My lips quirked up in a smile to see Cicero so happy, so genuinely happy for once, when suddenly the door was broken down and Astrid barged in, her blade drawn. “By Sithis, this ends now! Back away, fool! Whatever you’ve been planning is over! Where’s the accomplice? Reveal yourself, traitor!”

 

“Accomplice?” Cicero asked, puzzled. “But I spoke only to the Night Mother! I spoke to the Night Mother, but she didn’t speak to me, oh no … she spoke only to her! To the Listener!”

 

“What? The Listener? What are you going on about? What is this lunacy?”

 

“It’s true, it’s true! The Night Mother has spoken! The silence has been broken! The Listener has been chosen!”

 

Astrid glowered at him but approached me, keeping a close eye on the Keeper as she passed him. “When I heard Cicero screaming, I knew you’d been discovered. I feared the worst. Are you alright?”

 

I nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.”

 

“Then what in Sithis’ name is going on? Cicero said he spoke to the Night Mother, but she spoke to you? Is this just more of the fool’s rambling?”

 

I shook my head. “It’s true, she spoke to me.”

 

Astrid’s eyes narrowed as she worked it all out. “So … Cicero wasn’t talking to anyone else, just the Night Mother’s body? And the Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, will only speak to the person chosen as Listener … just spoke. Right now. To you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. I wasn’t sure if she really believed me or not, but if she didn’t she at least put on a show. “By Sithis. And … what did she say?”

 

“That I must speak to someone named Amaund Motierre, in Volunruud.”

 

“Amaund Motierre? I have no idea who that is. But Volunruud … that I have heard of. And I know where it is.”

 

“So, I should go to Volunruud? I should talk to this man, as she wishes?”

 

“Hmm? No. No! Listen, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you take your orders from me, are we clear on that? The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this Family. I will not have my authority so easily dismissed. I … I need time to think about all this. Go see Nazir, do some work for him. I’ll find you when I’m ready to discuss the matter further.”

 

“Very well," I reluctantly replied to her retreating figure, anger welling up in me. I hadn’t really expected her to give me the proper respect that was due the Listener, but for the Night Mother’s explicit wishes to be completely shunted aside? To say that I was furious was an understatement. I was positively livid. I clenched my hands into fists just to stop them from shaking and closed my eyes as I breathed deeply to get my emotions under control. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I opened my eyes and looked up to see Cicero, a similar fire in his own eyes accompanied by a certain shade of sadness. He understood, better than most, what I felt at the outright rejection of the Night Mother’s request.

 

“Cicero is sorry, Listener.”

 

I gritted my teeth, trying hard to keep at bay the tears that were threatening to fall. I hadn’t cried since I was a child, it was seen as a weakness, and I couldn’t afford weakness. But this … this dismissal _hurt_. “How am I supposed to be the Listener, to carry out the Night Mother’s wishes, if I am _not allowed_ to?” I breathed out a sigh of disgust, irritated, my emotions raw and unsettled.

 

“Be patient, Listener, the Night Mother has a way of making her will manifest. You will get a chance to prove yourself, Cicero is sure of it. And Cicero is also sure that you will succeed! Yes, succeed and _thrive!_ Cicero cannot think of anyone else who would fill the role of Listener better than a Lachance. Lachances are always destined for great things!”

 

I chuckled, smiling slightly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

 

He squeezed my shoulder as he looked me in the eye, the smile disappearing from his face as he became serious. “Cicero will always be here for the Listener. _Always_.”

 

I couldn’t help the slight blush that alighted on my cheeks as I nodded and turned to leave the room. Partway to the door, I stopped, a question on my tongue that I couldn’t stop. “Cicero … did you want to be the Listener?”

 

“Oh … well … yes, I did. I did, indeed. I tried to listen Tried so very hard. But the Night Mother never spoke to poor Cicero. The silence became almost … maddening. Oh, but that was then! This is now! _You’re_ the Listener, and the Night Mother chose you for a reason, I’m sure! Cicero will remain the happy Keeper. Yes, yes, things are finally looking up!”

 

Well, I appreciated the optimism, because I didn’t really feel it myself. I figured Cicero could be happy for the both of us as I made my way into the dining/lounge area, where I was sure Nazir would be. And of course, there he was, casually polishing off an apple. I swore I didn’t know how the Redguard stayed so trim, as every time I saw him he was snacking on something. "Astrid said you had some work for me?”

 

His lips curled to reveal his impossibly white teeth. “Did she, now? Well her timing is excellent. As it turns out, I’ve got two new contracts. One rather easy assignment, and another that should prove quite a challenge. Your first target is an orc bard named Lurbuk, the bard at the Moorside Inn in Morthal. The other is a vampire by the name of Hern, who runs Half-Moon Mill right here in Falkreath.” He took one last bite of his apple before he added, “Happy hunting.”

 

With my contracts in hand, I flung myself into the nearest bed and tried to get as much sleep as I could. I would move out in the morning and make my way to Morthal, taking a carriage for most of it. On the way back, I could swing by the Mill and take care of the vampire. Easy enough. But for now I needed some rest. Some respite from the frustration that burned within me. I held on desperately to the words Cicero had imparted. They were about the only comfort that I could find.

 

In the morning, bright and early, I made my way to the freelance carriage that I paid well to take me on a one-way trip to Morthal. Best to let him leave me instead of wait, that would only raise suspicion. On the trip, I pulled out some parchment and wrote a letter to my parents, whom I’m sure were waiting to hear if I had been able to even find the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim.

 

———

 

_Father & Mother,_

 

_I’m sure you have been waiting to hear from me, and while there is some bad news, there is good as well. With some effort, I was able to discover the remaining chapter of the Dark Brotherhood here. It is a small Family, but there is great talent to be had, and a variety of it, between the werewolf, the vampire, even the Shadowscale. The Sanctuary is secure and well furnished and I’m quite impressed with how solid of a base it is._

 

_The bad news, however, is that this Family has abandoned the Five Tenants. Instead of serving the Night Mother, they serve only the leader of their Family. Even when the Keeper arrived with the Unholy Matron, his reception was lukewarm. I am doing my best to help him and be a buffer between him and the leader, however this has been difficult, and has been made even more so as I have now been named Listener. While I am happy for this rare opportunity, it puts me in direct conflict with the leader. I am holding my tongue, and trying to work from the shadows to steer us back to the old ways, but I fear her paranoia will force my hand. I pray to Sithis it does not._

 

_I hope you are proud of me. I feel that you are. But please, refrain from contacting me for now. Things in the Sanctuary are a bit tense, and I fear what could happen should a certain someone stumble upon my personal affects. Which is why I am enclosing my journal that I’ve been keeping. The things I’ve written, while in accordance with the Five Tenants and respectful always of Sithis and the Night Mother, they would be considered treachery. How ironic is that? That my devotion to the Old Ways is considered blasphemous instead of their abandonment? I promise I will do my best to turn them back, to build this Family into what it could be. Until then, I must do so subtly, from the shadows, in time. And until then, this is the only communication I will risk._

 

_I love you. Matron keep you._

 

_Marane_

 

———

 

Once the carriage finally rolled into Morthal, I sealed the letter, bound it with my journal, and wrapped it in a secure parcel. I then located a courier and contracted him to deliver it to my parents in High Rock. It was a pretty penny to ensure delivery across the border like that, but I had plenty to spare, and even chipped in more than was necessary just to make sure the job was done.

 

Now I had to focus on my target.

 

Lurbuk was supposed to be found in the local Inn, and he was definitely not hard to spot when I walked in. He was the only Orc there, of course, but beyond that his singing was terrible. Not only that, he seemed averse to singing already written songs, preferring to compose his own on the spot, which did not end very well. His rhyming and rhythm was atrocious, and I could easily see why someone would pay to have him taken out. I posed as a traveler, simply passing through, and bought a meal and some ale and slowly ate, contemplating how best to go about this. The Inn was fairly wide open, not a lot of places to hide. My best bet, in order to remain hidden, was to wait until he retired and slit his throat as he slept. Of course, as was typical with bards, he didn’t retire until very early in the morning. I’d had to pay for a room in order to allay suspicion, but at least I had somewhere comfortable to wait until he finally decided to stop torturing the Inn’s patrons. After that, it was just a simple matter of sneaking into his room and covering his mouth before I sliced through his vocal cords, leaving him to sputter as he bled out into the furs on his bed.

 

When the deed was done, I hightailed it out of the Inn, making my way across the marshes in the dead of night. It took some doing - along with a little swimming - but I arrived at the stables outside of Solitude before dawn. From there, I contracted the carriage driver to take me to Whiterun. Not my true destination, but I wanted to deter suspicion that I was always traveling to Falkreath, and Half-Moon Mill was easy enough to get to from Whiterun as it was. Just a little journey along the road before turning south and traveling through the mountainous hills surrounding southern Skyrim. Beautiful countryside, to be sure, but a bit of a pain to navigate.

 

I camped out in the wilds, not far from the Mill, needing just a little sleep before I would position myself for a potentially very long watch. This was the un-glamorous side to assassinations that the epics didn’t talk about. Sure the spilling of blood was a rush and the service to the Night Mother was honourable and fulfilling, but the waiting … there was a lot of that to do, if one wanted to do it proper. And if something was worth doing, it was worth doing right. So, the next day, I took my bow and quiver and I positioned myself on a little hill in sight of the Mill and waited, keeping watch for my target. I pulled my hood up as it began to rain lightly, making sure to keep my bow dry underneath my cloak until the proper time. I ended up waiting most of the day, the sun well on its way to the horizon when he finally emerged. Contrary to popular belief, vampires could go out during the day, they were just weakened. Not enough to not be a threat, however, which is why I was performing this contract at a distance instead of my preferred close, intimate contact. Nothing personal against those with vampirism, as the disease certainly had some positive aspects to it. Hell, Lucien himself ran with one in his Sanctuary. But I didn’t want to contend with it, myself, and so that meant keeping a little distance when I knew my target was infected with Sanguinare Vampiris.

 

All it took was one shot and he was down. His female companion was enraged and searched the area, but I might as well have been invisible. I waited until she started roaming in the opposite direction and I slipped out of my hiding spot and down the road. The Sanctuary was only a short distance from the Mill itself, and it wasn’t but perhaps ten minutes later that I was slipping through the Black Door once more.

 

As I hit the landing, Astrid poked her head out of her room and said bluntly, “We need to talk.”

 

I stopped short, cocking an eyebrow. “Of course. What is it?” I asked, acting casual.

 

Astrid sighed, licking her lips as she settled a hand on her hip. “Look, something is happening here. I’m not entirely sure what that something is, but … well, he need to find out. If the Night Mother really did give you an order to talk to a contact, we’d be mad to ignore it. And I think we can both agree that Cicero’s brought quite enough madness to this Sanctuary. So go, go to Volunruud. It’s a crypt in The Pale, just south of Dawnstar. Go talk to this Amaund Motierre and let’s see where all this leads, hmm?”

 

I knew better. She was carefully choosing her words to make it seem like she was coming around to the Night Mother, but I was under no illusion that she was actually starting to believe in the Unholy Matron and her will this soon. What had happened, I would put money on, was that she’d sent out her little ravens to scout and report back to her with any word of a Black Sacrament being performed. And once they did, she wanted me to handle it. She didn’t believe in the Night Mother and her Listener, she just didn’t want to miss out on a contract that she’d confirmed existed. But no matter. Whatever her reasoning, I was finally allowed to act on Mother’s will, and that made me happy. I didn’t hold back my grin as I replied, “As you wish.”


	11. A meeting of fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of screenshots for these chapters, I forgot as I was playing to take some. I took plenty as I finished out my play-through in game this past weekend, so take heart!

I wrapped my cloak tightly around me as I slipped into the old crypt known as Volunruud, remaining mindful of the skeletons and the draugr that could still infest the tomb. A particular skeleton sitting on a chair just inside the entrance looked suspicious, but I was able to sneak past it with no difficulty. For all the fear they could inspire in a civilian, skeletons posed little actual threat beyond their appearance. They were easy to detect, easy to strike down, just easy in general. For someone like me, too easy.

 

As I descended the steps into the first antechamber, I paused, wondering which direction to take. There was no obvious signs pointing to any particular direction, so I hesitated a moment, listening intently to see if there was anything that would give the correct direction away. I closed my eyes, shutting out all my other senses in favour of my hearing. Within a few minutes, my hearing sharpened, weeding out the dripping water and the settling earth and eventually honing in on pacing footsteps and whispering voices. Those weren’t the voices of draugrs … I tilted my head, waiting a few moments more until I was sure of where it was coming from, and the slunk off into a small chamber to the left, the only thing announcing my arrival being the small creak of the wooden door.

 

A well-dressed nobleman was waiting there, along with a soldier who looked like he served as bodyguard. A great relief washed over the nobleman’s face as he saw me enter. “By the Almighty Divines, you’ve come! You’ve actually come! This dreadful Black Sacrament thing … it actually worked!”

 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Yes, it worked, Motierre. The Night Mother has heard your pleas.”

 

He seemed a bit taken aback that I already knew his name, but he recovered quickly, straightening his tunic to allay his nervousness. “Yes, um … so it would seem. Well, I won’t waste your time, then. I would like to arrange a contract. Several, actually. I daresay, the work I’m offering has more significance than anything your organization has experienced in, well, centuries.”

 

Outwardly, I gave no reaction to his words, but inwardly I was intrigued. The last thing of import to happen in the Dark Brotherhood happened when Lucien was still around, that much was true. The thought that something equally significant could happen while I was a member, well … I was definitely interested. “Go on.”

 

He nodded and cleared his throat. “As I said, I want you to kill several people. You’ll find the targets, as well as their manners of elimination, quite varied. I’m sure someone of your disposition will probably find it enjoyable. But you should know that these killings are but a means to an end, for they pave the way to the most important target. The real reason I’m speaking with a cutthroat in the bowels of this detestable crypt, is because I seek the assassination of … the Emperor of Tamriel.”

 

I couldn’t say I was completely surprised, but the ultimate target did make my eyebrow twitch in interest. It was a shocking request to some, perhaps, but it only stoked my hunger to carry it out personally. “Leaders rise and fall every day. Business is business.”

 

Motierre visibly sighed in relief. “Oh, wonderful. You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.” He started grinning madly as he exclaimed, “So much has led to this day, so much planning and maneuvering. It’s as if the very stars have finally aligned! But, I digress. I have some items that need to be delivered to your, um … superior. Rexus!”

 

He clapped and the bodyguard at his side jumped to attention, as if he had been zoning out of the whole conversation until that moment. He recovered quickly and walked toward me, a hint of caution in his eyes as he approached. He reached into a side pocket and pulled out a letter and a small bag. “Here,” he said gruffly, immediately retreating to his employer’s side.

 

The letter was sealed, and I didn’t dare open it for fear of Astrid’s wrath, but I opened the small pouch to find a curious, unique amulet. I didn’t even get a chance to question it as Motierre was already prattling on, “The sealed letter will explain everything that needs to be done. The amulet itself is quite valuable and you can use it to pay for any and all expenses. Once all the assassinations are carried out, then I will give you the location of the dead drop for your final payment.” He observed me looking over the amulet before I returned it to its pouch before he asked, “Was there … anything else you need?”

 

I met his eyes over the mask that covered the lower half of my face. “No, this will be all. I will ensure the letter is delivered promptly.”

 

He smiled slightly, mostly in relief as he said, “Good, good. Now I can _finally_ get out of this wretched crypt.”

 

I didn’t resist the eye roll this time, but I had already turned and was out the door, leaving him behind with his bodyguard while I stole across the plains of Skyrim, slinking toward the Sanctuary as quickly as possible. I had to camp briefly in the wilds, but I slept only a few hours before I was back on the road again, eager to deliver the letter to Astrid. I was slightly nervous, wondering how she would take the news, and if I would be allowed to carry out any of the assassinations or not. I fervently hoped so. I felt like this would truly cement my mark in the Dark Brotherhood, Listener or not. To be able to carry out the assassination of the Emperor of Tamriel was such a high honour, and it was that very reason that gave me dread. Astrid and I didn’t see eye to eye in such terms as a traditional hierarchy in the Sanctuary, and as such honours and respect that I should have been afforded as Listener was all but forgotten. Not that I was trying to appear as spoiled or ungrateful, it was just another symptom of the blasphemy currently practiced in my beloved Family. I sighed heavily as I entered through the Black Door, trudging down the stairs, expecting Astrid to poke her head out of her room at my entrance. I almost chuckled when I saw the blond head pop out. Predictable.

 

“You’re back. Good. All right, so? Did you meet this Motierre? What did he want?”

 

I paused only once, only for the barest second as I replied, “Motierre wants us to kill … the Emperor.”

 

Astrid’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

 

I cocked an eyebrow as I handed over the letter and the small pouch.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“He said the letter would explain it all. The amulet is for expenses.”

 

She took them carefully, breaking the seal on the letter and opening it, perusing its contents with pursed lips. “By Sithis, you’re not joking. To kill the Emperor of Tamriel … the Dark Brotherhood hasn’t done such a thing since the assassination of Pelagius. _No one_ has dared assassinate an Emperor since the murder of Uriel Septim, two hundred years ago …”

 

My heart wasn’t sure if it wanted to beat out of my chest or stop completely. Astrid may not have believed in the Night Mother, but would she really refuse a bountiful contract? “Surely the Night Mother wouldn’t misdirect us …”

 

She continued to peruse the letter’s contents as she replied, “No, she certainly wouldn’t. And, for whatever reason, she chose to relay Motierre’s information to you. I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, if you’re the Listener or if this is some kind of fluke or what, but what we now have before us …”

 

I bit back the rush of anger at her suggestion that hearing the Night Mother was a fluke. The Night Mother _did not_ just speak to anybody, she spoke to the _Listener_ , and only the Listener. The binding words that she gave me, they weren’t something she just gave out to every assassin to enter the Brotherhood. It was an insult to imply that, but I shoved down the backbiting retort I wanted to give and instead asked, “So we’ll accept the contract?”

 

Astrid closed the letter with a smile. “You’re damn right we’ll accept it. If we pull this off, the Dark Brotherhood will know a fear and respect we haven’t seen in centuries. You think I’d abandon an opportunity to lead my Family to glory? But this is all so much to take in … I’ll need some time to study the letter and figure out where we go from here. And this amulet … hmmm …”

 

“What are you thinking?”

 

She fingered the jewelry for a moment as she thought before she carefully replied. “I’m thinking we need that amulet appraised. I want to know where it came from, how much it’s worth, and if we can actually get away with selling it. And there’s only one man who can give us what we need: Delvin Mallory. He’s a fence, a private operator. Works out of the Ratway’s tavern in Riften. Take the amulet to him and find out everything you can, sell it if he’s willing. He’ll offer a letter of credit, most likely. That’s fine. Delvin Mallory and the Dark Brotherhood have … history. He can be trusted.”

 

I took the amulet from her and bowed my head slightly. “It will be done.”

 

But first, I needed a little rest. This non-stop traveling was starting to wear on me, and Astrid graciously allowed me to use the rest of the day to gather myself before I set off for Riften on the morrow. I was too exhausted to engage Veezara in some sparring, as we’d come to enjoy, but Cicero was nice company as we sat and read. Well, I read. He wrote in a journal, occasionally giggling to himself, but I dared not ask him what was so funny. Whenever I heard him chuckle, I glanced up at him and smiled. It was nice to see someone joyful for once, despite the fact that he was slightly mad. It didn’t matter to me. Others may have been annoyed by him, but I found him refreshing and different and I loved to spend what time I could with him.

 

The next morning, I was up before the sun, setting off for Whiterun to catch a carriage to Riften. I continually cursed Falkreath for not having a carriage to take, but there was nothing I could do as I trudged along the road, the path lit only by the moons and the stars above until the sun eventually made its presence known. Because of my early start, the sun had only just completely cleared the mountains in the distance when I arrived at the stables outside the hold capitol, gold in hand and ready to exchange for a ride. The carriage driver took them without question, merely nodding to the back so I could get in before he slapped the reigns and nudge the horses onto the road.

 

The Rift itself is a beautiful hold to travel through. The trees and the flowers are plenteous, and because of the positioning of the mountains around it, its climate was much milder than could be found further north. Unlike the Pale and Eastmarch and Winterhold, which was bare and cold and snowy, life flourished in the Rift, and its beauty showed. It was deceptive, however. In amoungst the woods were clusters of spiders, packs of wolves, and sleuths of bears, all lying in wait, hiding and watching for the unwary traveler before they pounced. One had to constantly be on watch, if they traveled alone in the Rift.

 

When I finally arrived in the city, I wasted no time. The sun was setting and it was getting late, but I wanted to get this appointment over and done with. Nothing against this Delvin character, I was sure that he was just the right kind of smarmy that we could trust. But I wanted to get back to the Sanctuary, back to my Family, as soon as possible, to be where I belonged if not available to carry out the assassinations detailed in the letter that I’d handed Astrid. If I were to be slow in returning, perhaps she would dole them out to someone else, and that was something that I just couldn’t stand the thought of. So I had already purposed to be in and out, and with that I immediately descended the steps to the lower part of the city, walking silently along the water-lapped walkway until I made it to the right door. Because of the time, I was a little surprised when I quite literally ran into another body coming out of it. I think we both startled the other, however, and after she recovered, the Bosmer flashed me a wicked grin before she slipped away into the night. _Thieve’s Guild, I’d bet my septims on it._

 

I kept my guard up as I made my way through the Ratway, but I was surprisingly not accosted by anyone. I counted it as good fortune when I slipped into the The Ragged Flagon, the tavern nestled in the heart of the Ratway. It was frequented only by the sordid types, like the Thieve’s Guild and various mercenaries, and it was where I could find this Delvin Mallory. Astrid had given me a detailed description of the man, and I spotted him immediately as I circled around the cistern and entered the bar area. He sat alone, at a single table, so I plunked myself down as soon as I drew near. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at my boldness but smiled amusedly as he said, “Ah, now you must be lost. Best ya scurry off while you’re able. The Ratway, well … it has a habit of swallowin’ up the uninvited.”

 

While I was sure his little advice would scare away most, it didn’t phase me in the slightest. I simply replied, “The Dark Brotherhood requires your services.”

 

Delvin sat back in his chair, the look of surprise plain on his face. “Oh? Oh, I see.” He chuckled as he asked, “Well now, how is Astrid doin’ these days, uh? Tell her to stop by some time. We can have a drink. Catch up. Ah, but we can discuss that later, yeah? What does the Brotherhood need?”

 

I discreetly slipped him the amulet under the table. “What can you tell me about this?”

 

Delvin was nothing if not discreet. He didn’t pull the amulet up to examine it, but his eyes merely flicked down to his lap, and then bulged ever so slightly. “Where oh where did you get this?” He shook his head. “Never mind, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. This is an amulet of the Emperor’s Elder Council, specially crafted for each member. Worth a small fortune. Ain’t somethin’ you’d give up lightly …” He subtly glanced around before he added, his voice lowered, “Look, it ain’t my business to tell the Dark Brotherhood _its_ business, but if you killed a member of the Elder Council, you’d better believe …”

 

“Will you buy it?” I interrupted, fully aware of the consequences. I had suspected Motierre was a higher up, and this only confirmed it.

 

“Buy it? This? An Elder Council amulet? Oh yes. Oh yes, _indeed_. Wait just a moment …” He pulled a quill and a piece of parchment from his pocket, dipped the end of the quill in a small pot of ink on the table, and quickly wrote out a letter, just like Astrid had indicated he would do. He closed the parchment once he was done and then slid it towards me on the table. “Here. It’s a letter of credit, usable by Astrid only, for any service or item I can provide, as per our standard arrangement. You go ahead and bring that back to your lovely mistress, with my regards.” He winked and then offered to buy me a bottle of mead, but I declined, stating I needed to return as soon as possible. He nodded as I left the Flagon, but I felt his eyes on me the whole way out the door. I had to wonder just what history Astrid and Delvin had, but knowing the type of people they were, they would never tell.

 

I didn’t stop at the inn for the night, contracting another carriage immediately to take me to Falkreath. I slept as best as I could in the rocking, bumping cart. It was far from ideal, but I was eager to be safe and sound in the Sanctuary, so it was a price I willingly paid. That wasn’t to say I enjoyed it in the least, on the contrary with each jolt and bump I groaned, just wanting a little peace and knowing it was a ways off yet.

 

I scrambled out of the cart as soon as it pulled up outside of Falkreath, tossing a tip toward the driver as I wrapped my cloak around me and trudged through the town. I didn’t often take a carriage directly to the hold capitol here, but I made exceptions on occasion, and this was one. I was exhausted and I knew I would be accosted immediately when I entered the Sanctuary, and I just wanted it over and done with so I could return to some semblance of rest.

 

Sure enough, one my feet hit the landing, Astrid appeared. “Good, you’re back. What did Mallory have to say? Is the amulet worth anything?”

 

I nodded. “Quite a bit, apparently. They are extremely rare, being as they are specially made for the members of the Emperor’s Elder Council.”

 

“The Elder Council?” She chuckled. “Oh, now that explains quite a bit. Motierre, you naughty, naughty boy. Hiring the Dark Brotherhood to help you rise beyond your station. Delicious. Was Mallory willing to buy the amulet?”

 

I nodded as I reached into my small pack and produced the parchment. “He was. Here’s your letter of credit.”

 

“Splendid. Then, we’re ready to begin. Or, specifically, _you’re_ ready to begin.” I perked up at her pronouncement, but if she noticed she didn’t say anything, merely continued, “After all, you’re the one the Night Mother spoke to. Now then, I hope you have something nice to wear, because you’re going to a wedding.”

 

I arched an eyebrow. “A wedding?”

 

“Well, more like the public reception. It should be a lovely affair. You’ll mingle with the guests, eat some cake … stab the bride. Oh yes, you’ve got to kill the bride at her wedding. And they say romance is dead.”

 

I suppressed the chuckle at her joke. “Who’s the target?”

 

“Her name is Vittoria Vici. She oversees the East Empire Company’s business holdings in Solitude, which is where the wedding is being held. Her death will cause an uproar, _exactly_ what we want. Vici is likely to address her guests frequently, as is the wedding custom. If you kill her when she does that, I promise you a significant bonus. Now go. And give my best to the bride,” she said with a wink.

 

“Of course, but … how is this connected to the Emperor?”

 

“Vici is the first cousin to Emperor Titus Mede II. She has obvious Imperial connections, while her husband has obvious ties to the Stormcloaks. Their union is to be a step toward reconciliation. So if there’s a murder at the wedding, not only will it stall the peace process, it will send shockwaves throughout the entire Empire. The Emperor’s hand will be forced. He’ll have to travel to Skyrim to deal with the aftermath … and he’ll find the Dark Brotherhood waiting.”

 

This time, I couldn’t stop the grin that spread on my face. Though it was hidden by my mask, I was sure Astrid could tell by my eyes my joy and mirth at the prospect of being given this high honour. I wouldn’t fail my Family, both my blood and the Brotherhood. They would be all be proud of me by the time this was through. I would make sure of it.


	12. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to note, in the last chapter, that Bosmer thief that Marane bumped into? Yeah, she's an OC of mine that will pop up in other stories and also have a dedicated story of her own. So keep a watch out for her. ;)

The wedding was a few days away, so I had some time to relax before I headed up to Solitude, scouted the area, and decided on the best plan of action. Of course, I preferred to get up close and personal, unless circumstances or contracts prevented it, but I believed in considering all options thoroughly. Granted this was to be a public kill, but that was no excuse for it being sloppy. There was a big difference between the two. The most important thing I would be scouting, of course, would be escape routes out of the city. The guards would be relentless, especially after I just killed a high profile person like the Emperor’s first cousin, so I was going to have to plan this out very carefully. In all my years of doing assassin work, I had never once been caught and thrown into prison, and I intended on keeping it that way. It wasn’t just an inconvenience, it was a point of pride that a Lachance was never imprisoned. Of course, the more public the kill, the more risk involved, but I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Never had and never would.

 

What I really needed at the moment, however, was rest. It had become a desperate, dire need at this point, as I had only been able to grab snatches on sleep in the carriage all the way from Riften. It was just the afternoon, but I was completely dead on my feet. Ordinarily, I would have just fallen into a bed and slept the time away, and indeed that’s what I tried to do, but the others were rowdy and raucous in the dining room below, apparently taking in some pre-celebration for the enormous contract we’d been given. Even though I was the one at least carrying out the initial kill, it belonged to all of us. If I’d been better rested, I probably would have joined them, but I would have fallen asleep at the bench if I’d tried. I tossed and turned in the bed for a while, but I just couldn’t fall asleep with the loud talking and laughing that was going on just below me. I couldn’t fault them too much for their excitement, indeed I _wanted_ to join them, but I would do so later on that night. I eventually gave up and stood, walking slowly out the door, not even sure where I was going, but wondering if there was some quiet corner I could find to rest in.

 

I stood at the top of the stairs that led into the antechamber where the waterfall was, just listening to the water as it rumbled over the rocks and spilled into the pond below. I shivered slightly, slowly rubbing my bare arms. I had disrobed in favour of trying to take a nap in undergarments, just a sleeveless shirt and some leggings, and under some blankets it was perfectly sufficient. But outside of the blankets and standing right next to cool, crisp water, it was a little chilly. I’d even unbraided my hair, and almost surprised myself with how long it had gotten. I usually kept my hair fairly short, long enough so I could pull it out of the way of course, but short enough that it wasn’t trouble. It was actually starting to reach my elbows, however, which meant I was in some dire need of a cut. Later, though. There was too much to be done at the moment to consider finding a barber.

 

I felt like I was fading in and out, even though I was standing, so much so that I never heard anyone approach until a hand touched my shoulder and I almost jumped out of my skin. Cicero was standing at my side, seemingly non-plussed about my startled reaction. He just smiled gently at me and said, “I’m sorry, I called you several times but you didn’t say anything. I was … worried.”

 

I chuckled. “It’s alright, Cicero. I’m just tired, and …” I looked back toward the sleeping quarters, where I could still hear laughter from where I was standing, “… I just couldn’t get any sleep in my bed.”

 

The jester pursed his lips, nodding before he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and said, “Come with me, then.” He gently tugged on me, wanting me to follow right beside him, and even if I hadn’t wanted to I doubted I would have been able to resist him as I stumbled along beside him, leaning on him a little more than I wanted to admit.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“My own chambers are far removed from the dining room, I think they should suffice for you, Listener.”

 

“You don’t have to do that, Cicero …”

 

“Nonsense! Cicero lives to serve the Night Mother and, in turn, the Listener. And if the least I can do for you is offer you a quiet place to rest, then that is what I will do.”

 

I was really in no position to protest, and I even allowed him to tuck me in as I settled in on his bed, sleep quickly overcoming me. I only just barely felt his fingertips brush a strand of hair out of my face as he whispered, “Sleep, Marane.” All I knew after that was peaceful oblivion.

 

I slept for about four hours or so, not enough to erase my sleep debt, but enough to awaken refreshed for the night. When I woke, I realized I had barely moved from the position I’d fallen asleep in, just some slight shifting. Cicero had been sitting in a chair across from the bed, his journal open as he added to it. That was actually the first thing I coherently remembered, the gentle scratching of quill against parchment. As I yawned and stretched, he turned and smiled at me. “Listener, you’re awake! Did you sleep well?”

 

I returned the smile, still waking up a little as I sat up. “I did, thank you.”

 

He tutted at me as he said, “Don’t mention it, it is the Keeper’s duty. Oh! And before I forget, I took the liberty of cleaning your armor so it’s nice and shiny and ready for your next kill.” The smile he flashed was both dangerous and charming, fitting for the mad jester.

 

I was about to say something about him not having to do that, but I knew that he would dismiss any kind of comment like that, and so instead I simply said, “Thank you, Cicero. I wasn’t expecting you to do that, you know.”

 

“Cicero lives to serve,” he replied simply before going back to his journal. “The doggy was out hunting earlier, he brought back a large elk I believe they are preparing for dinner tonight in celebration. You’ll stay for that, yes?”

 

“I was planning on it,” I replied as I stood, stretching a little more thoroughly. “I’ll probably leave after, just so I can maximize my planning time in Solitude.”

 

For just a moment, he looked disappointed, but perhaps it was just the way the candles flickered as it was gone in just a second, replaced instead by a smile. “Of course, Listener, this is a very important mission. Not a contract to take flying by the seat of your pants, mmm?” He giggled to himself as he continued to write in his journal, and I shook my head. He was definitely mad, but there was something about the jester that drew me to him more than the others in the Family. Perhaps it was just the fact that we were both still very entrenched in the old ways, two oddities trying to survive in a blasphemous Sanctuary. But somehow it just felt like more as I passed by him, on my way to my own beside to splash my face with some water, re-braid my hair, and dress and pack for the evening’s travels.

 

Over dinner, all anyone could talk about was the contract, and all were very intent on giving me some advice. Even Arnbjorn and Astrid were there, which was unusual as they usually dined separately from the others. The werewolf laughed as he down a tankard of ale. “You get to kill a soft little noblewoman on her wedding day? What’s next, murdering a crippled orphan in his sleep?”

 

Everybody laughed, even me. We all knew the kill itself wasn’t going to be the challenging part of this mission, if anything, aside from the public nature and the high profile of the target, it would be one of my easier ones.

 

Babette mock pouted as she declaired, “It’s no fair, I _love_ weddings. I wish I could have gotten the contract, but instead I’m visiting cities, assessing security. How boring. But …” her eyes sparkled in the candle light as she continued, “the wedding reception is outside of the Temple of the Divines, right? In Solitude? If so, the bride will probably address the crowd from the balcony that overlooks the courtyard … and there’s an old statue right above it, of a gargoyle. _Old_ meaning _weak_. Doesn’t look like it would take much of a push to send it crashing down to the balcony …” She giggled with this creepy little girl laughter that sent a shiver up my spine. I was a hardened, trained assassin, sure, but that didn’t mean I was immune to the creepy whims of a little girl vampire. I don’t think anyone was, truly.

 

Festus brusquely added, “Ah, killing her will be easy! She’ll be so happy, she’ll never see it coming. I should know, I killed a bride once. It was our honeymoon. Tepid, I said! The bathwater should be tepid! Lukewarm is not tepid! Close, maybe, but there is a difference … stupid cow.”

 

“Festus!” Gabriella exclaimed, laughing into her mug. “I almost choked on my ale!” Turning to me with a grin, she added, “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of surveying the site of the reception while you were in Riften. There’s a small parapet, just opposite the balcony that would prove an excellent spot for a long range kill. I left a little something for you there, if you’re so inclined to take that approach …” she winked and me, and I nodded in appreciation. Even though I had my own bow, it would be impossible to sneak it into the reception with me. Should I decide that long range was the way to go, that was going to be handy to have waiting for me instead of me worrying about planting it beforehand.”

 

Nazir was next to add to the conversation, “Those guards will be out for blood once you do it.Wouldn’t surprise me if the crowd jumped in, too.”

 

Veezara nodded. “Simple contracts are never really that simple. Getting into the reception and fulfilling the contract will be easy enough, but have you thought about getting out?”

 

I nodded. “I have, that’s why I’ll be leaving tonight for Solitude. I’ll be reconnoitering the area to see what will be the best way to get out., I figured all the extra time I could spend doing that would prove useful.”

 

The shadowscale nodded. “Good, good. And don’t worry, I’ll be nearby for backup, just in case it starts to get a little hairy. The kill itself is all yours, of course, but in case you run into trouble, I’ll be there to help you out.”

 

I wasn’t a fool who was going to get offended at the suggestion that I couldn’t take care of this, myself. I was a big girl, yes, but this was a very big job that we couldn’t take risks with. And, truth be told, I was much happier with the fact that Veezara was my backup instead of Astrid.

 

That night, as I was packing, Astrid approached me and handed me a small bundle. “Here,” she said, “for the wedding. You’ll stick out too much with your armor, you’ll need to blend in.”

 

I nodded. I had been packing some more casual clothes of mine to wear instead, figuring I could blend in with the servants, but if she was going to hand me the means to get even more up close and personal, I wouldn’t protest. I took the bundle and thanked her, tucking it into my pack along with everything else I would need before I took off in the night, making my way to the Whiterun stables before chartering a ride Solitude.

 

I made it there sometime mid-morning, and while I was still tired, I made it my business to do some initial recon before I bought a room at the inn. I mostly walked around and observed the marketplace, looking out for any nooks and crannies that might be helpful, but I didn’t really find anything. There was one possibility, but I would wait until the next day to see if it was viable. I needed rest, and I turned in quite early that night, intent on stocking up on sleep. I needed to be at my very best.

 

The next two days were spent wandering around Solitude, under the guise of a noblewoman from High Rock visiting for the wedding, but when no one was looking, I found exactly what I needed. Just across from the Temple of the Divines, down a ramp, was a tower, the top of it connecting to Castle Dour and presumably used to transport guards easily to and from certain positions in the city. At the bottom of the tower, however, was an exit that lead to the riverfront outside the Solitude docks. From there, it was an easy swim across the way and I would be on the land peninsula near Morthal, near the abandoned shack where I’d killed that Khajiit when ordered to by Astrid. If I got hurt, that would be an ideal place to hole up in, but I didn’t plan on getting injured. Instead, if my luck held, I could make it past Morthal and down toward Whiterun before cutting back toward Falkreath hold. I wasn’t going to chance catching a carriage this time, I would be journeying on foot, something I didn’t particularly look forward to, but it was necessary. Bounties didn’t normally carry over from hold to hold, but with such a high profile target, I wasn’t taking any chances.

 

Finally, the day of the wedding arrived, and I bathed and brushed out my hair, pulling half of it back and styling it in braids, similar to other noblewomen. Just because I wasn’t one didn’t mean I didn’t know how to act like one, and if this was the angle I was selling, I would sell it until the end. I then pulled out the bundle that Astrid had given me and found a deep red dress with soft leather shoes inside. It was a fashion forward style that was popular in High Rock, with sleeves that hung off my shoulders and skirts that fanned around me. I wasn’t exactly ecstatic about such fashion, but at least I would look nice, I supposed. Once I was dressed and ready, I packed up the rest of my gear and dropped my bag off at the tower that I was planning on using for escape, tucking it into a corner that nobody would find. The only other thing I took with me was my ebony dagger, tucking it and its twin under my skirts, not about to take any chance in my escape. I wouldn’t have on any armor, and wouldn’t be able to pull it on before I left the city, and so I wasn’t going to chance just taking one dagger with me.

 

The public reception was formal, but cheerful. Bards from the College performed as everyone snacked and made polite conversation. I took on my role well, flitting between guests and even speaking with the bride herself. She was beaming, laughing and drinking and making merry with her guests, completely unaware that she would not live to see the end of the day.

 

When the time came, I stole away to the balcony, pretending I needed to rest a moment away from the crowd. I played the role of an overindulged noblewoman well, and nobody questioned my motives. When Vittoria and her new husband came out onto the balcony, they hardly paid me any mind as the bride stepped forward to address her guests. I subtly reached underneath my skirts and drew one of my daggers, holding it tightly in my hand as I waited just a few moments, making sure that she was well into the middle of her speech before I sprang forward from the shadows, yanking her head back and quickly swiping my blade deeply across her throat. The only sounds she made after that was a gurgle as arterial spray coated the few guests right underneath the balcony. I felt some hit my face as well, but I didn’t have time to wipe it away. Her husband was right beside her, and even though he was initially in shock, I had to make my escape _now_.

 

A panicked flurry whipped the crowd into a frenzy, and while they were simply in shock when I left the balcony, they were out for blood by the time I emerged at the bottom. I had already drawn my other dagger and I swiftly dodged the few guests and guards that had caught up to me, not getting caught up with defending myself and concentrating only on making it out of the city. It was, admittedly, a little harder to do with the bountiful skirts around my legs, but I hitched them up and ran, down the ramp and toward the tower, grabbing my bag as I ran, guards in pursuit. Sure enough, Veezara was waiting for me, and he held them off as I made it outside the city, not hesitating for a moment before I dove into the water to swim across the channel. I doubted any of the guards would follow me this way, not wanting to either take the time to disrobe or get their armor wet, if they even knew how to swim at all. They would likely try to go around, but by then I would be long gone.

 

On the other side of the bank, I slipped into the swamps, pausing only long enough to strip off my dress, ring it out, and pull on my armor before I kept on going. Veezara soon joined me, and together we journeyed back to the Sanctuary, keeping out heads on a swivel the whole way to make sure we weren’t being followed.

 

Luck was on our side, as we passed through the holds unbothered, and we quietly slipped back through the Black Door together, Veezara clapping me on the back as he said, “It was good to fight alongside you. I’m sure people won’t be forgetting that wedding anytime soon, hmm?”

 

I laughed with him as I remembered the shock and horror that was washed over everyone’s face to see the bride’s throat viciously slashed in front of them, all of them helpless against the will of Sithis. It was glorious. “Indeed. I wonder what the bards from the College will make of it …”

 

“Ah, they will compose a bloody rhyme, I’m sure.”

 

Astrid was certainly in a good mood as she greeted us both, chuckling. “Ha ha, the news is everywhere! Vittoria Vici, the Emperor’s cousin, butchered at her own wedding in front of her guests. Well done! Let’s see his eminence try to ignore this.”

 

I grinned as I replied, “She bled like a stuck pig. I believe I even caught some guests in the spray.”

 

Astrid laughed in response. “Well done, indeed. With Vici’s murder, you’ve started us down a path the Dark Brotherhood hasn’t traveled in centuries: the assassination of an Emperor. And now, your reward … for killing her while she addressed her guests, some gold, plain and simple. And for completing the contract, a unique spell to summon a legend of the Dark Brotherhood. His soul serves us now in death as his body once did in life. Use it wisely,” she cautioned as she handed over the sack of septims and the spellbook before retreating back into her room. Veezara patted me on the back as he made his way to the antechamber and likely to his own bed, but I was rooted to the spot, the spellbook already open in my hands. I wasn’t much of a mage, but this seemed simple enough. Since my magical arts weren’t well honed, it would likely deplete most if not all my magicka to perform, but it certainly seemed worth it. I wondered who the legendary soul would be, mentally counting back the legends I knew of within the Dark Brotherhood, wondering how far back I would need to go before I recognized who it was. At any rate, I was curious, and so once I was sure I knew the spell, I softly chanted the incantation and cast it. The typical purple swirl of the void of conjuration appeared before the solid-looking apparition. At first, I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things or not, and I had to blink several times before I asked …

 

“Lucien?”

 


	13. The sins of the father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no pictures for this chapter, but there will be at least a couple for next chapter, I promise!

I stood there in shock for a moment after I uttered his name, utterly certain of his identity but unsure how to proceed from there. He cocked his head at me, curious, his deep gravelly voice feeling like it reverberated through my chest as he asked, “Do I know you?”

 

“N-No,” I stuttered. “But I know you. You’re … I mean, I’m … you’re my ancestor.” I licked my lips as I continued, “My name is Marane Lachance. I’m your fifth great-granddaughter, directly descended from the son that your wife had after you had … died. We … we _all_ have known about you, have been taught about you. We all followed in your footsteps, joining the Dark Brotherhood. It’s all we’ve ever known, even 200 years after your death.”

 

The specter looked like he was processing all of this for a moment, then a small grin spread across his face. “I knew Alesinne had survived, along with the babe. She told me once she joined me in the Void. But I didn’t know she had so vigorously passed down this … unique heritage.” He paused a moment before he asked, “What position do you hold?”

 

I cleared my throat before I admitted, “Listener.”

 

His eyebrows looked like they might have shot off the top of his skull. “My granddaughter, Listener?” Another smile graced his features as he commented, “You have done well, Marane. I am proud that you bear the Lachance name.”

 

I could feel the tears prickling my eyes, both immensely proud and embarrassed that the spectral assassin was Lucien. Of course, this was a long-shot of a dream for me, to actually meet him and talk with him. I only wished I had waited until I whipped this Sanctuary back into shape, get them back into observing the Five Tenants and the old ways. I felt shamed that he had to see this Family in such a state, so far removed from the Brotherhood he knew and loved and had been devoted to his entire life up to and including his death. Perhaps I should have waited … but it was too late, now. I only hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed at factors that were beyond my control. But, maybe this would be a good thing. Perhaps have his presence here would help influence the others to embrace the old ways, to seek out the joy and satisfaction that came from true worship in Sithis. There was, of course, one person in particular that I knew would be beyond ecstatic to meet Lucien. “Thank you, Lucien. Things have changed a lot since you were amoung the living, but there are still a few remnants of the old ways that have stuck around, aside from myself …”

 

With that, he followed me further into the Sanctuary, past the antechamber and up the stairs. A couple of turns later and I knocked on a familiar door, hearing the familiar, sing-songy voice call out, “Coming!” before the mad jester opened the door. “Listener, you’re back!” he exclaimed, pulling me into a fierce hug and dancing around. I had to chuckle at his mirth; it was downright contagious. “I heard what happened at the wedding, splendid, yes! Bards will be singing of the Red Wedding for generations to come, all thanks to you!” He suddenly realized that I was not alone and took a step back, eying Lucien curiously. “And who, pray tell, do you have following you? I don’t remember seeing him here before …”

 

“That’s because he hasn’t been here before,” I explained. “He’s … well, he’s not alive. He’s a spectral assassin that I summoned, and I thought you would like a chance to meet my famous ancestor …”

 

The wheels and gears clicked into place in Cicero’s head, and his eyes widened in surprise before he bowed in reverence. “The Great Lucien Lachance! Here! In this Sanctuary! I am _truly_ humbled to stand in your presence …”

 

Lucien seemed to take it in stride, seemingly amused that his legacy had lived on so strongly despite the circumstances of his death. All three of us spent the next several hours simply talking as we caught Lucien up to what had happened in the 200 years since his death. There was, of course, a nice era of prosperity immediately following his death, spearheaded by his widow, Alesinne. But in the years following, during the war between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion, the Brotherhood had started to fall away until it was completely broken in Cyrodiil. Cicero had more detailed information for him, as he had stayed in Cyrodiil as Keeper while my own family had fled into High Rock to avoid the slaughter. Lucien was, predictably, not happy that this Family had abandoned the Five Tenants, though he was relieved to know that both of us still followed them, whether the rest of them did or not.

 

Around dinner time, I excused myself, needing to check in with Astrid to see what the next steps would be and if I would be needed. I kept my fingers crossed in the hopes that I would still be included on the rest of the contract, but knowing Astrid and her flighty ways, I couldn’t depend on it. I found her at her desk, outside her room, and she turned as she heard me approach. “Sister, what can I do for you?”

 

“I came to inquire if my services were further required for this contract,” I replied respectfully, surprising even myself at the light, even, genteel lilt of my own voice.

 

“Ah, yes, Gabriella and I were just discussing how best to go about fulfilling the rest of the contract, and I believe she’ll have some good ideas for you. Speak to her as soon as you can, she’ll give you the details.”

 

I nodded, “Of course, Sister.”

 

With that settled, I joined Cicero and the rest of the Family in the dining room for dinner, a joyous affair just as rambunctious as a few nights prior, before I’d left for Solitude. Lucien observed us quietly from the corner, watching us all but especially keeping an eye on me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I had summoned him or because we were related, but in a strange way I felt safe. I hadn’t had anyone looking over my shoulder for years, something I had grown accustomed to, but his presence wasn’t unwelcome. Far from it, if anything I felt more confident knowing that the legendary Lucien Lachance was watching over me. It was his eyes on me that made me hesitate to indulge in too much drink, like I would be tempted to do ordinarily. It wasn’t that I didn’t think I could handle it, or even that I wasn’t in a safe place or didn’t deserve it. I just didn’t want to potentially end up acting a fool in front of the ancestor that I had long idolized since my childhood. It just wouldn’t do.

 

After most everyone had had their fill and started breaking off into groups, I headed toward the potion and enchanting room where Gabriella often spent time, along with Babette and Festus. It was also home to a rather large frostbite spider that I’d been assured was completely harmless, but I steered clear of regardless. Gabriella was standing at the table, rifling through a book when I approached her, and she looked up with a sly grin. “Dear Sister, I’ve been waiting for you. Your next contract awaits, as I’m sure Astrid told you.”

 

I nodded. “She did, indeed. What are the details.”

 

She set the book down and cleared her throat. “With the Emperor’s arrival in Skyrim now a certainty, his security service - the Penitus Oculatus - will need to begin its preparations immediately. Security is being handled by a Commander Maro. Astrid and I have devised a plan to break the man and, in doing so, cripple the Emperor’s protection. You are to slay the commander’s son, Gaius Maro, and once he is dead, plant false evidence on him, implicating him in a plot to kill the Emperor.”

 

Seemed simple enough. “Understood.”

 

“He is set to leave the Penitus Oculatus outpost at Dragon Bridge in two days and inspect the security of each city in Skyrim. Go there now, observe Gaius Maro’s departure, and follow him. Waylay him in one of the cities and send his soul to Sithis. Once he’s dead, plant this incriminating letter on his body and let fate take care of the rest. Oh, and one final thing …”

 

“Yes?”

 

“To earn your bonus, don’t kill Gaius Maro in Dragon Bridge, or on the road. Kill him in one of the other major cities he’ll be visiting. There, the body will be discovered quickly, as will the letter implicating him in a plot to assassinate the Emperor. Do that, and Astrid has authorized me to grant you a rather unique bonus. It is a special token, to be given to Olava the Feeble, in Whiterun. Olava is an old and dear friend, and a powerful seer. The token entitles you to a reading of your future. It’s an opportunity one should not pass up.”

 

“Anything else I should know?” I asked, already preparing my next move in my mind.

 

“Just one thing … while we don’t know Gaius Maro’s exact schedule, there is a written version in Dragon Bridge, somewhere in the Penitus Oculatus outpost. If you secure that, then you can be one step ahead of your victim.” She grinned broadly. “Happy hunting, Sister.”

 

This was going to be a lot to think about and consider, and after spending some time alone, packing, I found myself in the company of my shadowscale friend, discussing the Penitus Oculatus and Dragon Bridge. Veezara had been there before, so he filled me in on the layout and what to expect, admitting that my best bet was to either slip in the outpost house during the day when there was nobody there, or taking up the position of a serving wench and bringing the men ale at night and swiping the plans then. It would simply depend on when I was able to get there and what opportunity I might have. I would also have to be careful being so close to Solitude, so soon after my very public murder of the Emperor’s cousin. The Penitus Oculatus were no mere guards, they were trained elites, according to Veezara. “Their members are highly trained, effective warriors. Be on your guard, Sister, for they will certainly be on theirs.”

 

I took his advice to heart, packing a spare, plain dress to use as a disguise should I need to. I didn’t really like going undercover, but sometimes it was necessary. And for a contract like this, certainly I would do whatever I needed to do in order to fulfill it. I tucked in early the night, intending on leaving as early as possible the next morning, if I was going to make it to Dragon Bridge before Gaius Maro left. The contracted carriages did not stop there, and while Solitude was but a short distance away, I couldn’t risk going that close to the hold capitol so soon. Perhaps later, once I could sneak around and put in some bribes to clear myself. Until then, though, it was too risky. Hell, it was risky enough going as close as Dragon Bridge. The Penitus Oculatus didn’t concern themselves with local crime, but killing the Emperor’s cousin may indeed make their radar, and so I had to be extra careful.

 

The next morning, I grabbed a piece of bread as I exited the antechamber, tossing a nod and a wave to Cicero, who was the only Family member to see me off. Lucien, of course, traveled with me, though he had no needs of his own seeing as he was simply spectral, a real as he looked. I pushed myself hard and managed to make it to Dragon Bridge late at night, the day before Gaius Maro was set to leave. I breathed a sigh of relief as I reserved a room in the inn before ordering some food and closing myself off for the night. Lucien kept an ear out to make sure nobody ratted me out while I got some much needed sleep before the fateful next day.

 

When I rose, instead of my armor, I pulled on my plain dress, making sure that my face and hands were dirty and my hair disheveled, like a farmhand. I looked a far cry from the noblewoman who had attended the wedding, and so I rather confidently strode out the door, intending on doing a little reconnaissance work. However, I quite literally ran into the father and son pair bidding each other goodbye, in the middle of town. It wasn’t hard to overhear their conversation.

 

“Father, you worry too much. I’ll be fine.”

 

“I know you will, but all the same, remember everything I said. Stay alert, and when you get to the cities, make your observations and move on.

 

“I understand, but you’re being a bit paranoid. I’m inspecting security, not charging off into battle. There’s not a lot that can go wrong.”

 

“Son, when the Emperor’s safety is concerned, anything could go wrong. Off with you, now. And good travels.”

 

“Farewell, Father. I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”

 

While the pair had been distracted by each other, I saw that the outpost’s headquarters had emptied, with all the men on their way to their duties for the day. I took that opportunity to slip inside, my eyes darting quickly over the interior, hoping that the travel itinerary was somewhere in plain sight. I could have kissed Mehrunes Dagon himself to see that, indeed, it was lying on the table closest to the door, unfolded to reveal its contents to any casual passerby. I quickly pocketed it and cautiously opened the door. Once I saw that the Commander was too busy watching his son walk off down the road, I slipped out of the building and back into the tavern, closing myself in my room before I pulled the letter out again so I could read it.

 

The first stop was Solitude, and though that was where Gaius would be as of the next day, it was out of the question. I needed to make contact with the right people and secure their bribes before I could show my face in the hold capitol again, it just wasn’t worth the hassle and the stress. Especially with such an important contract on the line. Windhelm and Markarth were looking especially doubtful, as he was to spend the night in the guard barracks, making it difficult to infiltrate and carry out a kill. Not impossible, but if one didn’t have to strain oneself trying to bend over backwards for a contract, then there was no reason to. Riften was just as doubtful, as he was due to stay in Mistveil Keep, with the Jarl, which no doubt would have excellent security as well. Whiterun, however … he was due there every Turdas, and he was to stay at the Bannered Mare. Possibilities started swirling through my head as I folded the paper and thought for a moment, tapping the parchment against my lips. I wasn’t sure what his personal security was like, but it was fairly obvious that the least secure place he would be was Whiterun. Which, could be that his security detail would be on higher alert, but being as they would be in a bar in perhaps the most peaceful hold capitol in all of Skyrim, perhaps they wouldn’t be. It was really my best bet, though, so I suited up, washed my face, and set off toward Whiterun.

 

I, unfortunately, had to make the whole journey on foot, as the closest spot for a carriage was Solitude. But I had plenty of time, so much so that when I arrived in Whiterun, I contacted the barkeep in the Bannered Mare and obtained a job, taking on the persona of a simple farmgirl trying to make her way in the world. My feign worked, and for the next two days I was the most dutiful and attentive barmaid the tavern had ever seen.

 

When Gaius Maro did finally come through, I welcomed him warmly with a smile and took his order, directing him to a table on the far side of the room, as discreet as he could get, as requested. When I delivered the bottle of ale, I purposefully bent over so he could get a nice little eyeful of what I had to offer. Never let it be said that I wasn’t all for utilizing whatever assets I had in order to complete a job. He definitely picked up what I was putting down, and subsequently ordered drink after drink along with a substantial dinner. I had him laughing and relaxing with a light, playful banter, and the way he was looking at me made it clear that he thought he had a good chance of bedding me that night. Not that I hadn’t sacrificed my body in the line of duty before, but with my ancestor there, watching over me, I wasn’t going to let it go that far this time. _Sorry, Gaius, but you won’t die sated tonight._ It was late in the night, past due for him to retire, when he drunkenly got to his feet and announced that he had to get to bed. I gently implored him to have one more drink, a special brew, on the house, and with the way I batted my eyelashes at him, he was helpless to resist me. He conceded one more, and as I went to the cellar to fetch a nice, cold bottle, I gently uncorked it and tipped a small vial of poison into it, swirling the liquid around to mix it well before I popped the cork back in and took it back up to the unsuspecting Maro.

 

He had been waiting dutifully for me, and lit up as he saw me approach. I made a small show of tripping over a knot in the floor, landing on his lap, though I don’t think he protested at all. It was all for a reason, however, because while I sat in his lap, pressed so tightly up against him, I took that opportunity to slip the incriminating letter on his person. I gave him a kiss and said, “Why don’t you take that bottle into your room to finish, and I’ll be along shortly …”

 

He got the drift, took a large swig from the bottle, and replied, “Of course. I will await you, then.” He winked and stood up, steadying me on the floor as he walked the short distance to his room, tipping the bottle again. I tended to a few more customers before I checked on him, smirking as I saw that he had drank the whole bottle and was lying on the bed, stone dead. The poison I’d given him was nigh undetectable, and for all intents and purposes it would look like he’d died of natural causes. I removed his shoes and drew the blanket up around him, making it look like he had retired to bed and had simply passed during the night. My shift didn’t last much longer, and once it was over, I packed my bags, slipped out the back, and contracted the carriage to take me back to Falkreath. The sooner I was out of town, the better. To help allay suspicion, I had left a letter for Hulda, explaining that I had gotten an urgent message from my family and that I was needed back home. Between that letter and the poison I had used to confer a natural looking death, no one would be any the wiser.

 

I arrived back at the Sanctuary with a smile on my face and a spring in my step, quite pleased with how the death of Gaius Maro had gone down. Instead of Astrid greeting me at the landing, however, it was Gabriella. “Ah, at last. I’ve been anxiously awaiting your return.”

 

“Well, here I am. And Gaius Maro lies dead.”

 

“Yes, I know. As does Astrid. You did well, and have earned both your reward and your bonus, for which I am quite proud. However, there is a more pressing matter to deal with. It’s … it’s Cicero. There’s been an incident. You should proceed into the Sanctuary. I’ll let Astrid explain.”

 

As soon as Gabriella mentioned Cicero being involved in an incident, I felt something cold and hard clench my heart. I didn’t know what had happened, but it didn’t bode well for the jester that I’d grown quite fond of in a relatively short amount of time. I swallowed and nodded, projecting an air of what I hoped was appropriate concern as I made my way further into the Sanctuary, wondering just what I would find. My stomach felt like it was doing flips as anxiety started thrumming throughout my body. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been so nervous, not even the first kill I’d independently contracted with no backup. Knowing Cicero the way I knew him - and knowing Astrid the way I knew her - I suspected that something foul was going on here, I just didn’t know what. I also didn’t know what I was going to be asked to do, and that perhaps worried me most of all.


	14. The price of loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit longer chapter than is typical for this story, but I'm sure you guys won't mind, eh? ;)

The air was tense as I descended into the antechamber. The pounding of the waterfall matched the pounding in my chest and my head as I made my way toward where my Family was standing. My eyes widened and my heart sank to see Veezara on the ground, coughing and sputtering as he held his side. Babette was beside him, trying to comfort him. “Just try to relax, Veezara, let the elixir do its work. You’ll feel better shortly.”

 

 

The shadowscale groaned. “Achh … thank you, dear. You are most kind. The jester’s cut feels as bad as it looks, I’m afraid.”

 

Astrid stood nearby, a storm of emotions on her face. “Damnit, this never should have happened! We knew better. We knew better and we still let our guards down. Agh!”

 

I felt almost frozen for a moment, cautious and leery of her, trying to decipher just what game she was playing at. Would she really risk Family just to expel someone she didn’t like? Her dislike of Cicero had been pretty evident from the start, eclipsed only by her husband. And I also knew that she didn’t hold to the Five Tenants. But would she really stoop to outright provocation to violence? I knew Cicero quite well, better than anyone in the Family, and I knew he wouldn’t simply harm a Family member without reason. To do so was a blatant violation of the Tenants that we both held dear. There was something else afoot here, and I knew it, but I would have to play along for now, so I broke my frozen stance and approached the group.

 

Astrid heard my footsteps and turned to see me walking up, her face still tense. “Maro is dead, I know. But we’ve got bigger problems right now.”

 

“Gabriella mentioned something about CIcero …”

 

“The fool went absolutely berserk! He wounded Veezara, he tried to kill _me_ , and then he fled. I knew that lunatic couldn’t be trusted.”

 

“It’s true, I’m afraid,” Festus piped up. “Cicero was a little whirlwind, slashing this way and that. It would have been funny if he weren’t trying to murder us all.”

 

Nazir spoke up then, his voice low and even. “Don’t forget the ranting and raving. About the Night Mother, how she was the true leader of the Dark Brotherhood, and how Astrid was just a _pretender_.”

 

That did seem to align with his beliefs, but again, he wouldn’t just go on a murderous rampage against the Family for no reason. He held to _all_ of the Five Tenants, which included not harming Brothers and Sisters. I felt that Astrid especially was holding something back from me, but it seemed she was focused on only one thing at the moment, and with that she said, “Look, we’ve got to deal with this situation. _You’ve_ got to deal with this situation.”

 

I bristled a little as I heard the implication loud and clear. Everyone knew Cicero and I were the closest out of all of the Family, so he was deemed my responsibility. Instead of lashing out, I calmly asked, “What do you want me to do?”

 

The bitterness in her voice was evident as she spat, “I want you to find that miserable little fool and end his life. But first … find my husband, make sure he’s all right. After the attack, Arnbjorn flew into a rage. When Cicero fled, Arnbjorn went after him and they both disappeared into the wild. Search Cicero’s room, see if there’s anything that might shed some light on where he might have gone. Let me know the minute you find something. I’ve got to see to Veezara and calm everyone down.”

 

In hindsight, it was a good thing that Astrid sent me off on my own. If I had stayed there, listening to the lies that she was pouring into the rest of the Family, I would have snapped. Just like Cicero. And then where would we both be? Outcasts. Exiled from our only true Family. Of course, how I was going to handle Cicero and where I went from here, I wasn’t sure, but as I closed the door to Cicero’s quarters, I knew that whatever was to come, it was up to me to do it. My hands trembled slightly as I rifled through his cupboards and his bedside table, trying to figure out where he might have gone to - if anywhere specifically - when I stumbled upon a collection of journals. I almost set them aside, but then I paused. It felt like an awful violation to read them, I didn’t want to intrude on the man’s personal thoughts and musings. But after standing there a few moments, I realized that I needed to, that if I didn’t then somebody else would, somebody else with less than pure intentions, who would only want to use whatever they found against him instead of trying to figure out how to help him. _Damn you, Cicero, for forcing me to do this_.

 

I took a deep breath and sat down at the table, willing myself to open the journals and read. And in them, I found the depth of a man that I didn’t even know was there. Sure, Cicero was mad and fanatical and loyal to the core, but there was so much more to him, too. Such a desire to serve, to do well, to be noticed and commended. He hadn’t written much of anything about his life prior to joining the Dark Brotherhood - or, indeed, prior to becoming Keeper - but just from what I read I knew it was a difficult life he’d been born into. And then the madness, the madness that he’d descended into after he was left alone with only the Night Mother’s corpse for company for _years_ … I shuddered to think how I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. It seemed almost horrific to have to go through something like that, but he came out on the other side, functional at the very least, if not sane. I could tell, at times in his writing, where the madness would leak through, would overcome his thoughts and his actions and his words, make him helpless to their whims. But there were other times where he was perfectly lucid and logical and sane, able to differentiate between the true and the untrue, reality from fantasy, and it was in these moments that I had to admit I most enjoyed reading. He wasn’t just another assassin, he was quite intellectual and bright, intuitive and innovative. Perhaps it was those qualities that allowed him to live with the madness, to function alongside it without letting it take him completely. Truly any lesser man would have succumbed long ago.

 

It was in his final journal that I found a clue, something to point me in a direction. He spoke of a Sanctuary on the north side of Dawnstar, and old and abandoned place that he’d found out about before he traveled here. He included the passphrase and everything, and I thanked the Night Mother and Sithis as I closed the journal. It wasn’t a sure thing that he would be there, but it would be a start. Hopefully he had fled there instead of trying to cross over back into Cyrodiil, because that would have been far too complicated. This civil war was starting to ramp up in Skyrim, and no doubt they would be patrolling the borders more vigorously than ever before. _Cicero, please be in Dawnstar_ , I thought to myself as I tucked the final journal into my pack, unwilling to let the sensitive contents - such as the passphrase for the other Sanctuary - fall into the wrong hands. Of course, they might already know, but I wasn’t about to feed them information. It broke my heart to consider working against this Family, most of whom I’d grown to love and appreciate, but they were blinded by a narcissist bent on control at any cost, even that of sacrificing the Keeper.

 

As I stood, I heard the barest whisper of movement behind me. Lucien was there, as he always was now, silently observing, looking to help wherever he could. He spoke then, his voice just as deep and gravelly as it had been the first time I’d summoned him, almost like he was more specter, more in tune with the Void than when we had been talking with Cicero. “I will kill this jester, if you so desire, but there is a disturbance in the Void. Our Dread Father does not wish this. The Keeper is a sacred position within the Dark Brotherhood. Ask yourself: do you trust the wisdom of our Lady?” His words struck the very core of me, and I simply stood there for a moment, humbled that even Lucien himself was on my side. Of course, I knew I was in the right, I knew Cicero was ultimately in the right, somehow. But to have the support of such a legend … it overwhelmed me for just a moment. I was torn out of my musings as he spoke again, this time his voice just slightly softer, a little more gentle, more _human_. “My Listener?”

 

 

I almost wanted to cry to hear _Lucien Lachance_ address me by such a title. When Astrid mentioned it, it seemed like such a throwaway, like it was just any other word. But when Cicero or Lucien said it … it was said with such reverence and respect. It gave me a glimpse into another world, a world where the Dark Brotherhood was fully intact, where the Night Mother was worshipped and the Five Tenants observed to the letter. I could have been a part of that world, indeed I would have fit better there, been more welcome, more comfortable. But I was stuck here, in a group of blasphemous fools following a narcissist who shirked tradition and threw it out the door.

 

I straightened as I replied, “He may have fled to Dawnstar, to an old Sanctuary there. I have the passphrase, I can get us in.”

 

“And what then?”

 

I sighed. “I don’t know. I … I don’t think I can kill him. It goes against everything I was taught. What can I do?” I turned to face the specter. “What do I do, Lucien? What do I do when I am commanded to do is against the wishes of Sithis?”

 

He smirked. “I think you know quite well the consequences of going against Sithis and the Night Mother.”

 

Indeed I did. It was what led to Lucien’s downfall. I shuddered as I tried not to imagine what his wife, Alesinne had stumbled into, his body hanging upside down, naked and flayed open. I felt sick to my stomach and had to take a big gulp of air to keep down what was on my stomach. I knew very well what could happen should the Dark Brotherhood be led astray. I couldn’t allow myself to be used in that way.

 

As I emerged from his quarters and re-entered the antechamber, Veezara was being led away, leaning on Gabriella and Nazir, as Astrid stood just where she had before, her expression still the same. She looked up as she saw me enter, asking, “Did you find anything?”

 

“Yes,” I replied, determined to give her only enough information to satisfy her. “I found some journals that he was keeping. He mentioned an abandoned Sanctuary in Dawnstar, I think he may be headed there. I have the passphrase for it.”

 

“The Dawnstar Sanctuary? Whatever for? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. You need to leave. Now. Every moment counts, so I want you to take my horse. His name is Shadowmere. You’ll find him outside, by the pool. Let’s just say he’s … one of us. Find Arnbjorn, make sure my husband’s alright. Then send that jester’s twisted little soul to the Void, in as many pieces as possible.”

 

I tightened my fist to keep it at my side, inactive, as I simply bowed slightly and headed out the door. I hadn’t even unpacked yet, so I was still able stocked enough for a journey. Being on horseback would make it even easier, and I would be lying if I’d said I wasn’t eager to see Shadowmere.

 

Shadowmere was a unique horse, one that had a history with my own ancestor. Their spirit reincarnated into different horses over time, so whether it was a mare or a stallion at any given time was a coin toss, but the spirit remained the same regardless. I knew when Lucien had originally ridden Shadowmere, the horse had been a female, thought from Astrid’s speech it seemed that now it was a stallion. Either way, to meet such an important, integral part of the Dark Brotherhood history, and especially one tied to the ancestor walking behind me, it sent no small thrill through me.

 

As we exited the Sanctuary, I looked over at the dark pool, as Astrid had indicated, and as I did, it bubbled and boiled before my very eye before the dark shape of a horse appeared in dark smoke. As the water calmed and the smoke dissipated, the horse shook his mane and snorted, bowing its head ever so slightly toward me before casting his gaze almost curiously at Lucien. I could hear the smile in the specter’s voice as he said, “Ah, Shadowmere, my old and dear friend.” The stallion bowed his head again, respectfully. He may have been a horse, but their spirits recognized each other, and it made my heart sing to see them reunited. I almost didn’t want to break the moment, but the pressing matter of finding Cicero before Arnbjorn tore him to bits was ever present in my mind, and so I took hold of the reigns and mounted the horse.

 

 

“Can you ride?” I asked Lucien, curious if the specter was able to do so.

 

He shook his head. “I will be at your side, though you will not see me. It is … a spectral gift.”

 

I nodded, a little sad that he wasn’t able to ride with me, but grateful he would remain with me regardless. I clicked my tongue and directed Shadowmere out of the pond and down the road, and once we were on sturdy ground, I nudged him into a gallop. I had to cover as much ground as quickly as I could, since Cicero and Arnbjorn had gotten a pretty large head start. I reigned him back in to a more gentle canter every so often, so I wasn’t pushing him unnecessarily, but even when I dropped him to a trot, I felt anxious, like we were wasting valuable time. I dropped his reigns so he could drink from rivers and ponds when we were close, letting him rest for a bit before we moved on. He seemed to understand the urgency and didn’t protest, doing his best to get me to my destination as quickly as possible as we rode across the plains of Whiterun and up into the Pale. Instead of taking the risky path of the Labyrinthian, I was going around. This way, when I reached Dawnstar, I wouldn’t have to conspicuously ride through the town and could simply ride Shadowmere along the coast until I reached the Sanctuary. I only hoped that I could find the entrance to this one easier than I could the entrance to the one in Falkreath, considering the hours that I’d spent trampling through bush just to find it tucked away in a rocky alcove. Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew Lucien was right there beside me, almost like I could _feel_ his presence keeping up with us. That definitely had to come in handy …

 

I shouldn’t have worried about finding the entrance, as when I rode along the coast, I saw Arnbjorn sitting there on the ground, splattered blood on the ground as he grit his teeth and held on to his arm. Despite our differences, he was still a Brother, and so I called out “Arnbjorn!” He looked up as I approached, watching me with an almost amused grin as I leapt off the horse and dug into my pack for a healing potion.

 

“Should have figured Astrid would send you.”

 

“You’re hurt,” I replied simply, pushing the small vial into his hands.

 

“Really? What gave it away?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, got to admit that little jester’s good with that butter knife. But don’t worry, I gave as good as I got.”

 

Fear struck the bottom of my stomach, knowing how vicious the werewolf could be. “Where’s Cicero now?”

 

He threw his head back, to indicate behind him. “In there, through the Black Door. Looks like he found an old Sanctuary up here. I would have followed him, but I don’t know the phrase.”

 

Well, that boded well for Cicero. Perhaps I could simply leave him here, as long as he kept to himself nobody would really be any the wiser, would they? And if no one else knew the passcode … I was suddenly very grateful that I had taken that all-important journal of his and that I had it with me. I would need to leave it here, for safekeeping, so no one else could enter this Sanctuary. After reading his journals, I hated to leave him all alone once again, but it didn’t look like I had any other choice. “Don’t worry, I know the phrase. I’ll take care of Cicero. You go home.” It wasn’t a lie, really. I just didn’t specify _how_ I would take care of him. If Arnbjorn - or any of the others - took it as I killed him, then that interpretation was on them, wasn’t it?

 

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. Doubt I’ll be much good to you, anyway. He cut me pretty good, but I slashed him something fierce. Might have severed an artery. Don’t know what you’ll find in there, but you can probably just follow the blood. Do me a favour and kill that little jester twice … just to make sure.”

 

I left Arnbjorn to drink the small potion I gave him as I approached the Black Door, suddenly nervous. I wasn’t sure what I would find in there, if Cicero would even be alive or if he would have descended so far into his madness that he didn’t even recognize me and simply attacked on sight. What would I do, then? All questions and worries left me for just a moment as the deep, breathy voice sounded in my mind …

 

_What is life’s greatest illusion?_

 

I whispered, “Innocence, my brother.”

 

_Welcome home_ , the door replied as I heard the familiar click that unlocked it. I pulled it open the rest of the way and shut it behind me. pausing for a moment as I took a deep breath to center myself. I gripped one of my daggers tightly in my hand, intent on having it close to me for self-defense. Who knew what the state of Cicero’s mind was, and if he ended up attacking me, then I had to defend myself. I didn’t really want to, I hoped I wouldn’t have to, but I hadn’t made it this far in life by taking reckless chances. And entering an unfamiliar lair with a mad assassin on the loose without having anything handy to defend oneself with … well, that was pretty damn far up on the scale of recklessness.

 

As I cautiously made my way through the Sanctuary, I heard the occasional laugh or giggle, and I knew it was Cicero. I couldn’t tell the intention behind his laughter, though, so I kept silent, Lucien right behind me, his own dagger out to defend me if he needed to. I was incredibly grateful to have him with me, I didn’t know how I would have handled this on my own. To not only know, but to have confirmation that what I was feeling and what I believed I needed to do was aligned with Sithis … it brought a great comfort to me, a balm that I would have been missing otherwise. I could only hope that I wasn’t too late to save Cicero, and that Cicero wasn’t so far gone that he would lash out at me in his madness.

 

I simply followed the sound of the maniacal laughter until I finally found the source. Pausing in front of the door, I took a deep breath to center myself before I slowly pushed it open, unsure what I was about to see.

 

It seemed that Cicero’d had enough strength to start a fire in the cold room, but not enough energy to prepare a proper bedroll for himself as he simply lay near the hearth, clutching at his side and giggling from time to time. He hadn’t even heard the door open nor me enter the room, the only thing that made him look up was hearing me whisper his name. “Cicero?”

 

He looked up at me, his eyes glazed over. “Listener, is that you? Oh, I knew you’d come. Send the best to defeat the best. Astrid knew her stupid little wolf couldn’t slay Cicero.”

 

“Cicero … what did you do? What happened?” I asked gently, softly, wanting just an explanation of why he’d gone so far off.

 

“Oh, alright, alright, Cicero attacked that harlot, Astrid. I admit it! But what’s a fool to do when his Mother is slandered and mocked? Surely the Listener understands …”

 

My hand clutched my dagger tighter. I had rightfully assumed that Astrid had been the one in the wrong, and if he had mocked the Night Mother herself … _she_ was the one who needed to be punished, not Cicero. If anything, it seemed Cicero had tried to extract her punishment for outright blasphemy himself, but was stopped by the others who just didn’t understand. It confirmed all I really needed to know. Astrid was the one who started this. Cicero didn’t deserve to die, especially not for defending the Night Mother.

 

Cicero coughed and added, “If it’s any comfort, I do feel a little bad about Veezara … the lizard just got in my way! I hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone else, Cicero swears it.” He coughed again and laughed. “And now, you’ve caught me. I surrender, I surrender! Ha ha ha ha ha. So, what are you going to do, Listener? Are you going to kill poor Cicero?”

 

I couldn’t stop the tears anymore. I had pushed them aside, denied them their chance to fall for too long. I ripped off my mask and threw it to the side, along with my dagger, dropping my pack to the floor as I tore through it for the one thing I needed. I found the large health potion carefully wrapped in the depth of my clothes and I carefully uncorked it through shaking hands. I was surprised that I didn’t spill any as I crossed the floor over to where Cicero laid, the way I was shaking, and I gently pulled him into my lap and simply said, “Drink.”

 

“Ah, the old poison route, eh? Classic …”

 

“No, Cicero, you fool!” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s a health potion. A large one. I don’t know what Arnbjorn’s done to you, but you look like you need it.”

 

He didn’t question it as he downed the potion, whether or not he actually believed me or not. Even though I didn’t look up, I knew Lucien was at the door, watching us. I was ashamed of the tears that I shed, especially in front of him, but I couldn’t hold them back. The utter disappointment at how this Family carried on blasphemously, their disregard for the Night Mother and her Keeper, and eventually me as the Listener. It had been eating away at me since the moment I’d set foot in the Falkreath Sanctuary and I could hold it in no longer.

 

When Cicero finished off the potion, I helped him out of his shirt and cleaned his wound. I winced as I saw that it was deep, deeper than I’d hoped it was, but the bleeding had slowed and the large potion would definitely help. He needed stitches, though, so I fetched a kit out of my bag and somehow managed to thread the needle through shaking hands. I wordlessly handed Cicero a bottle of Black-Briar mead, knowing he would need the strong drink. He quickly drank it and I gave him a moment as I laid out the bandages I would need before I started to sew him back up. I went slowly and carefully, patching the skin back together as well as I could. I wasn’t a healer or a surgeon by any stretch of the imagination, I only knew some basics in order to take care of myself or a Brother or Sister in need. The stitches weren’t pretty, the scar would definitely stand out against his pale skin, but it needed to be done. I didn’t want to risk transporting Cicero out of the Sanctuary here just to run into Arnbjorn or someone else who would rat us out to Astrid. No, this had to do. And at least he was still alive to bear a scar. There weren’t many who could say that they had gone up against a werewolf and survived.

 

As I finished and wrapped a bandaged around him, I think Cicero finally noticed that I was crying, though they had slowed to a sniffle. “Listener, don’t cry for Cicero.”

 

“No, it’s not … I just …” I took a deep breath, looking down at my blood stained hands. Hands stained with the blood of the Keeper, of Cicero. I wanted to wash it off, to banish the memory of him lying on the floor, bleeding out, but I couldn’t. If I was smart, I would wait until I got back to the Sanctuary and washed them in front of the Family, a wordless gesture to intimate that Cicero was dealt with. They could make their own assumptions.

 

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Lucien, a sad smile on his face. “I know it is difficult to walk this path, while others would seek to unseat you from it. But you walk in the truth, you please the Night Mother and Sithis, and they will reward you in turn. Just be patient, my child, and hold to the Tenants. They will not steer you wrong. The Family will need you, they just don’t know it yet.”

 

Cicero set a hand on my other shoulder, and as I turned to him, he said softly, all hint of madness gone from his voice, “I’m sorry that you are put in this position, under this pressure. If I could help, I would …”

 

I nodded as he trailed off, his sentiment unspoken but received. This was a burden that, unfortunately, I and I alone would bear. When I returned to Falkreath, I had to be strong, silent, unswerving. But for now I fell apart, sobbing in Cicero’s arms as Lucien kept watch over us.


	15. Home just ain't quite what it used to be

I said nothing as I strode into the Sanctuary, Cicero’s blood still sticky on my hands. I was grateful for the mask I wore, it helped me contain the broiling emotions within me. I’d had such good control of myself for so long, it was difficult to adjust to having such a conflict within me. It wasn’t without reason, of course, but I couldn’t fall apart now. I’d done enough in Dawnstar before I departed, leaving all the food and drink I had with Cicero so he wouldn’t have to leave anytime soon, along with a disguise for him when he would eventually need to leave. I was going to try to discreetly stop by again, but I didn’t know when I would get the chance, and I didn’t live my life by taking risky chances. Cicero may have been distinct and somewhat mad, but he wasn’t stupid, he knew he needed to disguise himself should he leave, and he was grateful for the help I gave him. I had delayed my leaving for a little while, knowing that it could be a while since I would see my good friend, my dear friend, my loyal Keeper.

 

It was then, when I hesitated and faltered, then Cicero pulled me close and bestowed me with a kiss. Soft, gentle, everything an assassin typically wasn’t. But it was him. My heart pounded and my cheeks flushed as we parted and I opened my eyes to see him still standing close, his brown eyes soft. “Go,” he’d whispered. “Take care of Mother for me.”

 

“I will,” I’d promised, a single tear streaking down my cheek before I reached for my mask and tugged it on, securing it. Cicero had hobbled back toward the room he’d requisitioned as his own and I’d left without another word, mounting Shadowmere and riding him back, much more gently this time. I rode through the night, not bothering to stop and rest. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, for one, and for two there were still contracts that needed to be taken care of. I couldn’t neglect my duties just because of my own conflicted feelings about the turmoil that had just occurred in the Family.

 

Astrid was waiting for me, as I expected, though I really didn’t want to speak with her. She wasn’t going to simply let me pass, however, and she stopped me as she said, “Arnbjorn is safe, and for that you have my thanks. But what of the fool? Is CIcero dead?”

 

“He has been … _dealt with_ ,” I replied darkly. With the tone of my voice and the blood on my hands, no doubt she would assume he was dead. Little did she know that the reason I replied so harshly, so darkly, is because I was angry with _her_. _Let her assume. It will be the end of her one day._

 

“Excellent. Once again, you’ve proven yourself a born assassin. Tell you what, why don’t you hold on to Shadowmere a while longer? He’s a fine steed and hasn’t been ridden as nearly as much as he should lately. And now that this CIcero mess has been mopped up, we can get back to the matter at hand, hmm?”

 

Right, the Emperor. The contract. I nodded. “Right. So what’s my next task?”

 

“There’s just one more target before we strike out at the Emperor. Have you by chance heard of the “Gourmet”? Read his cookbook? It’s become quite a phenomenon. The Gourmet is scheduled to cook for the Emperor at a special dinner. You’ll kill him, steal his Write of Passage, and assume the role of Master Chef. Festus has been spearheading this part of the assassination plan. He’s close to discovering the identity of the Gourmet. Report to him for more details.”

 

I started toward the enchanting and potion room, which is where he could usually be found, but before I could even descend into the antechamber, Arnbjorn popped out of the quarters he shared with Astrid. “There you are, hey!” he called after me, pausing to make sure I’d stopped. “Look, I … I just wanted to say thanks for coming to find me, back in Dawnstar. Crazy jester finally met his match, am I right?”

 

I nodded in reply and left them, my heart to heavy to talk any more about it.

 

As suspected, I found Festus by the enchanting table. He snickered and offered me a bowl of water to wash my hands in, and I thanked him, grateful to finally clean my hands. It had made me sick to look at it as I’d ridden here, but I felt it necessary to convey that Cicero was dead without even having to say much. It had seemed to do its job, as nobody yet had asked me more about it. They’d seen the blood as I’d walked by and assumed exactly what I’d wanted them to assume. When I finished scrubbing my hands and wiped them dry on my cloak, Festus grumbled good-naturedly, “Certainly took your sweet time dealing with Cicero, hmm? Now, let’s get down to business. Astrid told you about the Gourmet, I hope?”

 

Glad to finally be talking about something other than Cicero, I replied, “That I need to kill him and take on his identity?”

 

“Quite so. But first you’ll need to learn who he actually is. Assuming, of course, that the Gourmet is actually a _he_. Could be a woman for all we know.”

 

“Do you have any idea how to find out?”

 

“Ah, indeed I do! Indeed I do. In my, um, investigations, I came upon a certain book … it was a copy of the Gourmet’s cookbook, but it was signed by the Gourmet with a personal message to one Anton Virane. I’ve tracked Virane to the keep in Markarth, where he currently serves as head cook to the Jarl.”

 

“And you think he knows the Gourmet’s true identity?”

 

“I believe so. Therefore, you’ll need to obtain that information from Virane, both who he is and where he could be found. Oh, and when you’ve gotten all the information you can from Virane, kill him. Loose ends and all that. Next, you’ll have to … are you still paying attention?”

 

My gaze had wavered slightly, I admitted, but I still hung on his words. I nodded and replied, “Of course, Festus. Please, continue.”

 

“Hmph, yes. As I was saying, you’ll need to kill the Gourmet, of course. But what’s more, you’ll need to obtain his Writ of Passage so you can take his place. Oh, and if you can, hide the body. The longer it takes for anyone else to determine his real identity, the better.”

 

“Anything else you can tell me about the Gourmet?” I had been far too busy learning the ways of assassinating to pay much attention to cooking, so I was late in arrival learning about this Gourmet.

 

“Nobody knows his true identity. Well, nobody except Gaius Maro, and you’ve already taken care of him, and potentially Anton Virane. I do know that the Gourmet was classically trained in traditional Breton Cuisine in High Rock. That’s where he must have met Virane. In any event, our anonymous chef shares a passion for food with all of Tamriel, and that anonymity will prove the Emperor’s undoing.”

 

Well, this was potentially much easier than I’d first thought. Once I deciphered who the Gourmet was, taking him out would be easy and assuming his identity even easier. I wouldn’t even have to take steps to disguise myself, just a basic chef uniform and hat would suffice. “I’ll leave at once tonight, for Markarth, then. Thank you, Festus.”

 

He harrumphed, but I could see the edges of a smile before he turned around, back to the enchanting table. He was a grumpy old man, but that was just who he was, he meant no ill will.

 

At dinner, everyone was abuzz at the new target. Babette, even though she was a vampire, was upset that he needed to be eliminated, lamenting that the world would be a blander, less flavourful place. Nazir suspected it wouldn’t be too hard to finagle information out of Virane, that the real worry would be the Markarth guards, who seemed to be especially exuberant about throwing violators into Cidhna Mine.

 

Arnbjorn snorted. “The last thing you need is my help. Listener or not, you’ve proven yourself time and again. I think you’re pretty damn capable of getting what you want and doing what you need to.”

 

There were titters around the table in agreement. Gabriella sat back, humming thoughtfully as she said, “You’ve been directed to dispose of the Gourmet’s body, correct? I often find water to be a suitable hiding place. A lake, a pool … the sea.”

 

I smiled and she smiled back at me, understanding passing between us in droves. She was distant and mysterious at first, but she could be warm and understanding if given time. I had become almost as close to her as I had to Veezara, counting them amoung the few that were my friends. I felt bad that I had to conceal what I had done even from them, but I couldn’t risk them misunderstanding and going to Astrid out of a sense of misguided loyalty. I hoped that, should the truth come out down the line, they wouldn’t hate me for it. I hoped that we would all get a chance to reconcile, to come together under the Night Mother’s guidance and embrace our true purpose in worship. But that wasn’t anytime soon, and I didn’t delude myself by thinking that. I merely smiled and nodded and finished off my plate of roasted beef.

 

Veezara was, thankfully, healing well, though he’d taken his dinner alone. I could barely tell that he even walked with a limp when I saw him first, and I immediately pulled him into a hug, though gently so as to not hurt him further. He chuckled and said, “I take it you are glad that I live, Sister?”

 

“Of course I am! What kind of question is that?” I asked in mock outrage, grinning.

 

He smiled back with his toothy grin, his tongue ever so slightly flicking over them as he said, “Your well wishes are appreciated, Listener. I am glad to see that you still live as well, and unscathed, unlike myself.”

 

I chuckled before I looked at him seriously and said, “I’m sorry you were injured. If I could only have been here …” If only I had been quicker in returning, not drawing out Gaius Maro’s kill but just hitting him instantly and flying back to the Sanctuary, perhaps I could have been there to temper Cicero’s rage. Maybe I could have stepped in, convinced him to stand down at least for the time being. It could have been different … we would never know.

 

Veezara squeezed my shoulder. “No hard feelings, friend.”

 

I immediately went to repack my bag that night, needing to refresh it after traveling for a while and then tending to Cicero. Since I was going to Markarth, perhaps I would stop by my little house there, pick up a few things I’d kept stashed there since I’d moved in. It had been a while since I visited, and the city of stone almost felt like a second home to me. Second, of course, to the Sanctuary itself. Though, at the moment, it didn’t quite feel like it used to. That familiar feeling of comfort and familiarity felt off and awkward to me now. Would it ever feel like home again? I could only hope so.

 

As I packed, Astrid approached me, a bit out of character since she rarely interacted with me outside of missions. She didn’t say much, only, “Believe it or not, Festus likes you. He senses your power, your potential. Follow his instructions to the letter, and you may even earn his respect.”

 

I smirked and nodded, tying up my bag as I set it on the floor, ready to go in the morning. Lucien eyed Astrid warily as she left, and I felt somewhat comforted to have someone I could trust implicitly watch my back. I was used to being a loner, of course, but having him with me put me at ease.

 

As I rode off the next morning, I felt his presence with me, still, right by my side, ever present. He would appear only when I stopped Shadowmere for a little break, keeping an eye out for Forsworn. They weren’t exactly the friendly type, and I’d rather not tangle with them should I not need to. Fortunately, Lucien was an excellent scout, and a few times directed me to a better path that avoided their hunting parties and camps. Invaluable, indeed.

 

It was well into the night by the time I made it to Markarth, and I stabled Shadowmere before I entered the city. His unusual blood red eyes unnerved the stable boy, I could tell, but I only smirked as Shadowmere followed him without hesitation, knowing that I wanted him to behave. He was a powerful horse, and aggressive in battle if the tales indicated the truth, but he was also obedient to a fault and would follow his master’s instructions to the letter. I felt beyond honoured to have been given ownership of him, and I think Lucien was happy to see his old friend in my hands as well. I shouldered my pack as they led him to a stall, my first stop my home. With all the riding I’d been doing lately, I was sore as all get out, and eager to rest. After I mixed a poultice for myself, I wrapped it around me and sighed in relief as I sank into bed. Lucien chucked at me and I shot him a glare. Spectral traveling didn’t cause saddle soreness, and he definitely didn’t envy me, but he didn’t have to rub it in as well. I sighed as I closed my eyes, sleep not far away.

 

Because of the poultice, I felt much better in the morning as I peeled it off and later scrubbed the odd, medicinal smell off of my body. Dressing in my armor and pulling my mask up, I slunk through the stone city just as the sun was creeping over the hills. Once it rose, it would shine over the city, reflecting off of the stone structors, making the city look even more majestic than it already was.

 

But I would be long gone by then.

 

The guards barely even noticed me and I slipped into Understone Keep, used to me and my odd ways by now. I played that to my advantage as I simply climbed the stairs and made my way into the kitchens, cornering the cook before anyone else had even arrived to help him. He startled as he bumped into me and I simply stood there, looking at him pointedly. Intimidation was all about presence and about catching your target off guard. That was certainly achieved as he stammered, “Yes, yes for the hundredth time, I _am_ a Breton, but I was born in High Rock before I came here a few years ago. I’m _not_ a Reachman!”

 

Time to get down to business. “I know who you are, Anton Virane. And where you’re from.”

 

He looked at me curiously, his eyes narrowing as he asked, “Who are you? What do you want?”

 

“The Gourmet. Who is he? _Where_ is he?”

 

His eyes widened and he definitely seemed surprised at my questions as he stuttered, “T-The Gourmet? Never! I-I don’t know what led you here, but nothing will betray my trust. I’ll take the secret of the Gourmet’s identity to my grave.”

 

I stepped closer to him as I said in a low, dangerous tone, “For the Dark Brotherhood, that can be easily arranged.”

 

My statement had its intended affect as he visibly paled. “The Dark Brotherhood? Now, now wait a minute, let’s not be hasty!” he exclaimed as he saw me put my palm on my dagger. “I mean, surely my friend wouldn’t want me to endanger my own life, right? Look, his name is Balagog gro-Nolob. He’s an Orc! The Gourmet’s an Orc! He’s staying at the Nightgate Inn between Dawnstar and Winterhold right now, waiting to be called to serve the Emperor. That’s all I know, I promise! Now … now you’ll let me go, right?”

 

I inclined my head as I replied, lying through my teeth, “Of course, Anton. Thank you.”

 

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, alright. Wonderful. You’re welcome! I’ll just … be on my way, then …” he said as he slunk around me. He had just turned his back to me when I grabbed him by his hair and drew my blade across his neck, cutting through his vocal cords and letting him gurgle as I dropped his body to the floor. I wiped my blade down and set it back in its sheath, slipping back down the stairs and out of the Keep as quickly and as quietly as I could. The guards who saw me didn’t bat an eyelash and my sudden appearance and then disappearance. With any luck, the chef’s body wasn’t even found by the time I was checking Shadowmere out of the stables. I was sure the screams of the other cooks were quite delicious, indeed.

 

I had a target now, and I grinned as I steered Shadowmere towards Dawnstar. With any luck, I could even check in on Cicero when I was done with the Gourmet, but I had to ride quickly, now, scout my target and determine best where and how to kill him. Between the special horse beneath me and the spectral assassin that hovered beside me, Balagog gro-Nolob would be dead by sunset.


	16. To kill an Emperor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished most of this yesterday, and would have finished and posted it but I had a podcast to record so I had to prepare for and do that. :) Here you go!

The sun was waning in the sky by the time I pulled Shadowmere up to Nightgate Inn. There was no stable for him, but he wouldn’t wander should I leave him. It was sheer luck that, when I went to enter the Inn, I saw a very distinct looking Orc leave. I whispered to Lucien to follow him while I continued into the Inn to purchase some food supplies. I was halfway in the door as it was, it would have been too awkward for me to immediately exit. The innkeeper was a typical middle-aged Nord with a beard and a receding hairline, but he at least seemed pleasant enough. I supposed he didn’t get too much business where he was, so he treated all his guests well in hopes they would spend as much as possible. Were the circumstances different, I would have bought a room and stayed the night, but as it was I simply picked up as much food supplies as I could quickly obtain before I bid him goodbye.

 

When I exited the inn, Lucien was nowhere to be seen, so I casually loaded up my supplied pack onto Shadowmere. Sure enough, I heard the barest whisper of movement behind me and then Lucien’s deep voice. “I’ve found him. He’s at a pond nearby. Bring your bow.”

 

While I did prefer my daggers, I trusted Lucien implicitly, and so I pulled out my bow and buckled my quiver on my back, giving Shadowmere an order to stay put as I followed Lucien wordlessly. He led me down the road a little ways before cutting off onto a well-worn path, winding around some rock formations before we arrived at a little clearing. Sure enough, the Orc sat near the pond, silently, as if he were contemplating the meaning of life or whatever shit that scholarly intellectuals did. It made no difference to me as I strung an arrow in my bow and took a moment to aim, breathing deeply and evenly as I lined up the shot. Once I was sure I had it, I breathed out once more and released, watching as the arrow imbedded itself into the back of his skull. He probably didn’t even realize what had happened as he dropped to the ground, dead. I scurried over to his body, searching through it and hoping that he hadn’t left his Writ of Passage in his room. Again, luck shone on me as I pulled a piece of parchment from his coat pocket. I opened it and smiled as I confirmed that this was the Writ of Passage that I would need. Tucking it away in my armor, I filled his pockets and clothes with as many and as heavy rocks as I could find before I pushed his body into the pond. It had a shallow edge to it but also a sudden drop off into a pool that was probably around 7 feet deep or so, give or take. That, combined with the rocks I’d used to weight him down with, ensured he would not be found anytime soon. Just to make sure nobody came looking for him and got suspicious, I also swept around the snow around the area, so that it looked no different than if it had been disturbed by local wildlife and nothing else. I did the same for the rest of the path up to the road, and since it was dark I had to call it good enough. I was sure that the wind and other wildlife would take care of the rest for me. I had someplace to be.

 

I quickly mounted Shadowmere and guided him back onto the road, marking our travel by the light of the stars and the moons. The way it reflected off of the snow was enough to enable travel without a torch; if I’d been in a southern hold, I would have likely been forced to camp through the night instead of straining my eyes in such a way. I didn’t have too far to go, though, and soon enough I pulled up outside the Dawnstar Sanctuary. I pulled Shadowmere close to the door, so that he was sheltered from the elements, and outfitted him with a thick blanket before leaving him with some apples that I’d bought from the Inn. His eating habits were peculiar for a horse, considering his nature, but he very much appreciated the gesture as he nudged my hand with his nose.

 

Cicero was surprised to see me so soon, but pleased nonetheless. He put away his dagger that he’d drawn upon hearing someone entering, not taking any chances that someone else had figured out the passphrase. I was glad for his healthy level of paranoia, and also his restraint at finding out exactly who was entering before gutting them. He looked to be healing well, though he was still definitely weakened from the blood loss. His already pale skin was paler, and there was a tired energy about him, but he still smiled for me and ate a late meal with me. Afterwards, I emptied my sack of supplies and gave him everything else I had. He tried to graciously refuse, but I wouldn’t hear it. He needed more time to rest and mend and I didn’t want him worrying about supplies while he was doing that.

 

As I pulled the last of what I had out of my pack and arranged it for him, I could hear him shift his weight on his feet. “Are you alright?” I asked, concerned that his wound was paining him.

 

“U-uh yes, Cicero is fine. It’s just … erm …”

 

“What?”

 

“Eh … well, Cicero wasn’t expecting company so soon, and so, uh, I haven’t prepared any other beds for you … if you would like, you can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor! Yes! Cicero would be more than happy to give the Listener a place to sleep.”

 

I chuckled. “Don’t be silly, Cicero, I’m not going to take your bed from you. You need it far more than I do. A bed roll on the floor isn’t the most uncomfortable place I’ve slept before.”

 

“I’m afraid I cannot allow the Listener to sleep on the floor while I have a perfectly suitable bed!” he insisted. The look on his face was quite serious, no hint of madness or insanity. Even wounded and weakened he still wanted to attend to his duties as best he could. And since the Night Mother wasn’t present, that meant he doted on me whenever I was around. I could sense that with his unwavering sense of duty and loyalty, I wasn’t going to get him to budge on this, and so I smirked and grabbed him by his hand as I led him back to the bedroom that he was set up in. “What are you doing?” he asked curiously, not resisting me, just wondering.

 

“Going to bed,” I replied, stripping off my outer armor and leaving myself in my undershirt and leggings. “Come on,” I said, offering my hand to him. He looked at it warily before I rolled my eyes and said, “If you aren’t going to budge on offering me a bed and I don’t want to kick you out of yours, then we’ll just share.”

 

“Are you … are you sure?” his expression had softened, and I couldn’t help but smile at him.

 

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t serious. There’s no one else living I trust well enough to share a bed with.”

 

His pale cheeks reddened and he licked his lips as he chuckled, but he said nothing else as he took my hand and allowed me to guide him into the bed. I made sure to position him so I was on the opposite side as his wound, so I wouldn’t accidentally put pressure on it. The bed was large, but not large enough so that we would have our own space. I knew that, and I didn’t mind in the least. If anything, it felt nice to have him so close, to feel his warm, solid body against mine. His frame was deceptive, and while he was small he was as solid and as strong as he was lithe. I drew the blankets up around us as we settled in and laid my head on his shoulder. He accepted my embrace and, as I drifted off to sleep, I felt the barest whisper of lips against my forehead.

 

The next morning, I was loathe to get up. Not just because I wanted more sleep, but because I wanted to spend more time with Cicero. The bed sharing was really just a plus, and sure I had taken advantage of the situation when it had presented itself, but I certainly didn’t regret it. If anything, when I left after bidding a sleepy Cicero goodbye, I could only hope that Cicero didn’t prepare a bed for the next time I came calling. It was nice to finish out my visit that way, as close and as intimate as two people could be. That feeling of safety and security just gave me more motivation to try to steal away again soon.

 

His sleepy smile when I kissed him goodbye was definitely another motivating reason.

 

Having Shadowmere was definitely coming in handy, as I no longer had to rely on the carriage system anymore. I also didn’t have to strictly travel by roads this way, either, so my journey was much shorter. It was mid-afternoon by the time I arrived back in the Falkreath Sanctuary, and to my surprise, Astrid wasn’t waiting at the landing for me. That was because she was conferring with Festus near his enchanting table. I shrugged it off as I approached the pair, nodding to her before I addressed the older mage.

 

“The Gourmet lies dead at the bottom of a pond. Oh, and if you were wondering, he was an Orc by the name of Balagog gro-Nolob.”

 

“An Orc? Huh, my money was on Khajiit. I suppose I owe Nazir some septims …” he grumbled. “Did you get his Writ of Passage?”

 

“Of course,” I replied, pulling it out of where I’d kept it safely stashed in a pocket on the inside of my armor.

 

“Splendid, splendid … ah, and word has come in from Markarth that the head chef in Understone Keep was found with his throat slashed. You performed your duties to the letter.”

 

“You expected anything less from me?”

 

“Hmph. I was wrong about you, I admit it. Maybe we all were. Here’s your payment, and … a little something extra as well. From me. Consider it my way of apologizing for being so damned curmudgeonly!” He dropped a ring in my hand as he continued, “I call it the Nightweaver’s Band. I wore this for years, myself, and I want you to have it now. It’ll give your magic and sneakiness some much needed _oomph_.” He winked before he added, “Now, I’m sure Astrid has something for you …”

 

She nodded and took the reigns accordingly. “Indeed. Now that the Gourmet is dead, Titus Mede II is as good as.”

 

"So it’s time, then? We’re ready to assassinate the Emperor?” I asked.

 

“Oh yes. And I’ve decided that you will have the honour.”

 

My breathing quickened ever so slightly and every sense felt like it was thrumming. I felt like the my whole life had been leading up to this very moment. I was ready. I was _born_ for this. “I won’t disappoint you. Or the Dark Brotherhood.”

 

“I have the utmost faith in your success, believe me. So let’s begin. The Emperor is expected to arrive in Solitude in four days. In that time, I have my little ravens preparing so you won’t have any trouble in the city. Once you arrive, go to Castle Dour and present the Gourmet’s Write of Passage to Commander Maro, whom I’m sure you well remember. You’ll gain unrestricted access to the kitchens, and then the Emperor, that way. Since you’re posing as a chef, you’ll be able to poison his meal rather easily.”

 

“Is there a particular poison I should use?”

 

She nodded and pulled out a small pouch to hand to me. “Here, use this. It’s called Jarrin Root. All it takes is one taste, and the effects are quite immediate. The Emperor will be serving Sithis before he even knows he’s dead. Once Mede has been killed, use the upper door. That will take you across a bridge, down some stairs, and out of the city. According to Veezara, you used the same tower to escape when you killed Vici, so you should be familiar with it. I’ve arranged for the area to be unguarded once the alarm is sounded, so no one should stop you. Now go, prepare. And fulfill your destiny as Listener.”

 

I nodded, leaving the both of them and absconding to my bed. There, lying on my pillow, were a few books that I’d asked Gabriella to obtain for me so I could study them. One was the Gourmet’s own book, the others were books concerning cooking and kitchen artistry in general. I had a lot of studying to do if I was even going to pass as a chef at all, much less the famed Gourmet. The anonymity may have physically helped me, but I had to pass with the other cooks in the kitchen or else they would become suspicious. And so I set myself to the task, reading and studying and making notes about anything and everything I deemed relevant in the books. Babette even gave me some help as well, seeing as she’d been around for around 300 years or so, she’d seen quite a bit. She had even taken on an apprenticeship under a Head Chef in Valenwood in order to get close to his employer to take him out, so her input was especially helpful. In the end, I figured I was as ready as I was going to be.

 

I mostly used Shadowmere to travel to Solitude, but I dropped him off outside of it and instructed him on where to wait for me. I had no doubt that the guards wouldn’t give up pursuing me so easily, so I wanted him immediately available once I got out of Solitude. I also left my armor with him, though I strapped my daggers to my thighs. _Can never be too careful, after all_. Lucien assured me he would stay by my side through the entire affair, though he would make himself invisible so as to not raise suspicion. Feeling much more secure, I dressed in a chef’s dress and apron and affixed a chef’s hat on top of my head, with a little difficulty. It seemed there was a learning curve with such things. _How the hell does anyone manage to get anything does with this poofy thing on their heads?_ In the end, I managed to secure it and, after smoothing my dress and apron, marched my way up to the gate of Solitude with no small amount of butterflies in my stomach. Astrid had assured me that there would be no problems with the guards concerning my last visit, but there was always that lingering nervousness that I would encounter one that hadn’t been bribed or who thought himself above such things. Fortunately, that didn’t happen, and I was let through the gate and into the city with no problems.

 

Castle Dour was in the same courtyard I’d crossed when attending the wedding reception, and I recognized Commander Maro standing outside the entrance. He was an older man with plenty of wrinkles and lines that came with middle age. There was also a strain to his face, no doubt because of the death and smearing of his son. I didn’t often get to see the results of my work up close, but it was definitely an experience I took in as I approached him, gripping the Writ of Passage tightly in my hand.

 

As I figured he would, he stopped me before I could enter. “Stop right there. The tower is off limits until further notice.”

 

I said nothing, only handed him the paper. I didn’t know how the real Gourmet would have acted, if he would have been humble or haughty, but I went with the inconspicuous route. Best not to leave too much of an impression, after all. I was going to be leaving enough of one already.

 

“What’s this now?” he asked as he took the paper, opening it and reading it over. “Order of his eminence … possessor of these papers … the “Gourmet” … by Akatosh, the Gourmet! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize! We had no idea of when to expect you, you understand … though with the way your dressed, of course, I should have realized … but please, don’t let me keep you. Proceed to the kitchens straight away. Gianna, the castle chef, has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

 

I nodded and thanked him before I allowed him to open the door for me. The tower was very richly decorated but it was a fairly simple place in terms of layout. I easily found the kitchens and it seemed they were definitely expecting me as an Imperial woman was already slaving over a pot. She looked up as I entered, wiping her brow as she sighed in exasperation. “Not another delivery! I told you people, our stocks are fine. Now put whatever you have over there, then get out!”

 

I cocked my head slightly, pushing down the urge to snap as I addressed her as politely as possible. “I’m sorry, there must be a misunderstanding. I was told to come here to assist with making the meal. I’m the Gourmet.”

 

Her eyes widened as the realization hit her. “Th-The Gourmet? Oh! Finally! When I heard the Gourmet was being brought in to cook for the Emperor, I could hardly believe it. It’s just …”

 

“Just what?”

 

“Well, I don’t mean to seem disappointed, but … I just never figured the Gourmet was an Imperial. I had dreamed of something more exotic, maybe a Wood Elf …”

 

I brushed her and her fantasies aside. They meant nothing to me. I did internally chuckle as I wondered how she would have reacted should Balagog shown up here, himself. But that possibility would never happen now, and it was only something I could look back on and laugh in retrospect. Instead, I simply replied, “It is of no consequence. Let us prepare the meal, shall we?”

 

“Yes, but of course!” She cleared her throat before she continued, “The Emperor has requested your signature dish - the Potage le Magnifique. I’ve taken the liberty of getting it started, but the cookbook only says so much, and everyone makes the Potage differently. I would be honoured if we could make it … the Gourmet’s special way. The base broth is already boiled, we can get started right now. So … what do we add next?”

 

I was infinitely grateful to Gabriella for going over different dishes with me and theorizing - along with Babette - how the Gourmet might actually prepare his dishes. Had I not studied and prepped, I would have been completely lost, but with the help of my Family, I had enough background to propose how to proceed. Of course, if what I suggested was actually what the real Gourmet would have suggested, there was no way to know. It almost bugged me, almost made me wonder if I shouldn’t have tortured the information out of him first … ah, but there just wouldn’t have been enough time. Orcs were sturdy beings, and while being a chef was by no means a typical job that an Orc took, he was still likely just as strong as any other Orc from a stronghold. “Let’s add some carrots first, give them time to cook and get tender,” I said, grabbing a bunch and beginning to cut them up. This, at least, was fairly easy, as I knew my way around a lot with a knife. Once I had cut what I judged to be a sufficient number, I tossed them into the pot and let Gianna give it a stir.

 

“Now what?” she asked as she incorporated the vegetable.

 

“A few splashes of mead, for the flavour and the sweetness,” I replied, uncorking a bottle and pouring some in.

 

“Ah, I suspected as much,” she stated as she stirred it in. She wasn’t bullshitting me, I knew she had no clue as to how the Gourmet really made the Potage, but I didn’t call her on it, just let her have her moment of glory. It would all come crashing down soon enough. “Anything else?”

 

“One nirnroot,” I replied, pulling one out of a bin and prepping it, trimming off the excess and chopping it down to a fine dice. This was easy enough, at least. In another lifetime I could have made a suitable sous chef.

 

“Oh, I use nirnroot as a special seasoning all the time as well, what a wonderful idea! Okay, now what?”

 

“We’ll need some diced horker meat,” I said, looking around to see if there was any lying around.

 

“Hmmm … horker. So delicious. I swear, is there a soul alive who doesn’t enjoy the taste of … sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away.” She stepped over to a cupboard and pulled out a small bucket. She used a small cup to scoop some pre-diced horker meat into the stew and then put the bucket away while I took over stirring. “There we go, one cup of diced horker meat. I have to say, the stew seems done, adding anything else may dilute the distinct flavours. So … is that it?”

 

I shook my head. “There is one final ingredient, a special one that I brought with me.” I pulled the Jarrin Root pouch from my apron and quickly diced it up, tossing it in and giving it a nice stir to make sure it was incorporated well. It was too bad that I didn’t even get to taste my creation first, but such was the disappointments of an assassin. Gianna reached forward to get a small taste herself, but I stopped her, suddenly panicking slightly. “I am quite confident the taste is perfect, and therefore the first taste should be by the Emperor, don’t you think?”

 

She blushed. “Yes, of course. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.” She straightened and smoothed out her apron, clearing her throat as she said, “If I may say so, it has been an honour getting a chance to prepare a meal with, well … the best chef in the entire Empire!”

 

I smiled, maintaining my polite composure. “Of course. You have been good chef to work alongside. Perhaps in the future we may get a chance to cook again.”

 

Gianna positively beamed as she stammered. “W-why yes! Of course! I would love to, should we get the chance.” She paused for a moment, averted her eyes as she said, “If you want, I’ll carry the stew pot and lead the way up to the dining room. I’m sure the Emperor and his guests are dying to meet you!”

 

“Of course. Lead the way, Gianna.”

 

She transferred most of the Potage in a fancy serving pot before nodding to me and leading me out of the kitchen and up the stairs to where the Emperor and his guests were seated. I could hear their conversation en route, their loud voices and laughter enough to carry. One woman commented, “But aren’t you the least bit nervous? After everything that’s happened?”

 

A man, who must have been the Emperor, replied, “You mean the wedding? My cousin’s apparent murder?An unfortunate misunderstanding, no more. Cold mead, hot tempers … these things happen.”

 

Wow, so that was how he was spinning it? And I thought I could be heartless, he just downright was barely even acknowledging the fact that Vittoria Vici had been outright murdered in front of her guests. I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed that her murder was being written off and excused so easily. _Especially since I had to wear - and escape in - that damn dress!_

 

Another male voice piped up. “Yet that recent business with the young officer … Maro, was it? The son of your commander, plotting your assassination …”

 

“Yes, yes an unfortunate turn of events, that. But an isolated incident. And I have been assured that the fault was with the man’s son alone. Truth is, we are in no danger whatsoever. Killing an Emperor can be useful, but befriending one? Now _that’s_ beneficial … as I’m sure you’d all agree.”

 

I almost outright laughed, but contained myself. _Sure, they’re in no danger … as long as they don’t sneak a taste of this soup before the Emperor, of course …_ Gianna stopped outside the door and took a deep breath. “Here we are. Gods, I’m nervous. We’ll go in in just a moment. Please, I’ll service. You just stand there and … be amazing.”

 

Gianna knocked three times and then opened the door, bowing her head as she walked in, and I followed suit, bowing my head and acting the role of the perfect chef, taking my position at the other side of the table, opposite Gianna as she served - and closer to the door. The Emperor nodded and smiled as we entered, announcing, “Aha! Here we are. Honoured guests, I present to you … the Gourmet!” There were gasps and some clapping throughout the room and I bowed my head in recognition and smiled. As Gianna placed the bowls in front of the guests, the Emperor exclaimed, “Ah, the Potage le Magnifique. So delicious. My friends, as Emperor, I of course reserve the right of first taste.” The rest of them laughed, and I kept smiling, but slightly edged toward the door, preparing for what was to come. The emperor scooped some of the soup on a spoon, blowing on the steaming liquid, and then carefully sipping on it, smacking his lips and savouring it. “Oh, oh how marvelous. Just delicious. It is everything I had hoped it would be. It … I …” His facial expression changed, in that moment, from one of bliss and joy, to a contortion of a man who knew something was wrong, but he wasn’t quite sure … and he would never figure it out. “I think … something’s … wrong … I …” He gasped and gurgled and then face-planted into the soup.

 

I was already backed up against the wall and simply scooted along it and slipped into the small hallway that lead to the outside door. As I twisted the knob, I heard one of the guards exclaim, “By the gods! The Gourmet and the chef have poisoned the Emperor! Get them!”

 

“What? No, no you don’t understanding!” Gianna said, but the guards ignored her.

 

_Sorry, Gianna, that’s just how it goes._ I ripped off my chef hat as I closed the door, running over the bridge and toward the tower that led out of the city, my loose hair whipping in the wind. As I approached the tower, however, three Penitus Oculatus agents came rushing out, and I paused, hiking up my skirts to grab my daggers, eyeing them suspiciously. They were supposed to be taken care of, according to Astrid. What were they doing here?

 

I heard a slow clapping sound, and Commander Maro appeared in the window above, chuckling. “That man was, by far, the most insufferable decoy the Emperor has ever employed. I’m glad he’s dead.” I felt a whisper of wind behind me, and I knew that Lucien had appeared, his dagger likely drawn. He knew something was up, too, and I was suddenly extremely grateful to have him with me. I may have been a trained assassin, but I wasn’t a warrior, and taking on trained warriors one on one would have proved quite the challenge alone. Maro continued, undeterred by Lucien’s appearance. “Ah, but I’m even happier that you killed him. You, an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood, have just made an attempt on the Emperor’s life. Would have succeeded, had it been the real man. Surprised? So was I, when a member of your Family came to me with the plan. We worked out a deal, you see, an exchange. I get you, and the Dark Brotherhood gets to continue its existence.” He didn’t even have to say who it was, I knew immediately it was Astrid. Nobody else disrespected the Five Tenants and the office of Keeper and Listener like she did. She’d already tried to have Cicero taken care of, now she was trying to bump me off. “But you know what?” Maro asked rhetorically as he leered. “I’ve changed my mind. How about this? I kill you, and then butcher each and every one of your miserable little friends. Your Sanctuary will be put to the sword and the flame and with no one to warn them …” he sneered as he said, “That’s what I think of this _deal_. You killed my son! All of you! And now you’ll pay the price.” Turning to the others, he said, “Kill her. Kill them both. And make sure there’s nothing left to bury.”

 

With that, he left the window, and the other agents raised their weapons and started to advance. I backed up a little, trying to look for an opening, but Lucien was already in motion, lunging forward to plunge his dagger into the throat of the first one. Surprised at his speed, the man could only gurgle, wide-eyed, before Lucien pulled the dagger out and he fell. It was a ballsy, reckless move, but I suppose being dead afforded the luxury of being reckless. I had no fear of dying, but I didn’t want to go out like this … not when the innocent ones of my Family would be left to die without me. I raised my daggers and as another agent charged at me, I used one dagger to knock his sword out of the way before spinning around and similarly plunging my dagger in his neck. Quick and easy. The third was spooked as Lucien and I both advanced on him, and he swung his sword wildly. The tip of it nicked my left cheek, but it was the last mistake he ever made and both Lucien and my daggers found their target and he dropped. Side by side, my ancestor and I ran down the tower steps, stopping only to kill a couple more Penitus Oculatus agents that we ran into. As we reached the bottom and exited the city, Shadowmere was waiting right where we left him … though the two agents lying dead at his feet were a new addition. It seemed they had even tried to kill my horse, though Shadowmere was not just a horse and had been far more fierce than they had bargained on. I hurriedly traded in my chef’s dress and apron for my armor, suiting up in record time. I wouldn’t get much of a chance to later, and I needed to be prepared for what I was about to ride into.

 

“We must return to the Sanctuary at once,” Lucien intoned, his voice deep and rough. “You Family is in dire peril.”

 

 

“I know,” I replied softly, quickly as I mounted Shadowmere. “I only hope I can get there in time.”


	17. Through fire and flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit on the shorter side, but it came out exactly how I'd wanted it to. Also a few pics! Enjoy!

I rode Shadowmere hard all the way back to Falkreath, pausing only for the occasional water breaks. I didn’t know how far ahead the Penitus Oculatus agents were, but I was determined to catch up to them. I dreaded to think what would happen should I not get to my family in time … thoughts of their corpses burning in the Sanctuary made me ride faster, tears stinging my eyes as the wind whipped my hair around my head. I hadn’t even had time to braid it and I didn’t bother now. The only thing I focused on was returning to my Family. I would even save Astrid, if I could, though if I had my way she wouldn’t be living for long. They just needed to survive until I could get there. _Just hold on. I’m coming_.

 

My heart sank as I saw the smoke rising above the trees before I even got there. _No! I can’t be too late!_ My heels dug into Shadowmere’s side, and sensing something big and important was happening, he didn’t protest as he pushed himself to run harder, faster. As we arrived outside of the Sanctuary, I could see a few agents scattered around, just standing and lounging as if they were back in Solitude. Like they hadn’t just killed my Family. While still on horseback, I grabbed my bow and notched an arrow, downing all of them as I approached the entrance. I jumped off of Shadowmere and almost halted completely at the sight before me.

 

At the base of a tree, just in front of the entrance, Festus stood, pinned to the tree with arrows. Even though he was clearly dead, he had so many arrows in him he still stood there. I heard running footsteps and a shout ring out to my right and without even looking I notched and let loose an arrow. By the thud, I judged my target had been felled. I hadn’t even looked, my gaze unable to be torn from the old curmudgeonly uncle. “What did they do to you?” I whispered, reaching out, and then drawing back. It was too late for Festus. It may be too late for the others. But I would try. A Lachance never gave up.

 

I coughed as soon as I set foot in the Sanctuary, my eyes already stinging from the smoke. I was thankful that I already wore a mask, it made it a little bit easier as I made my way further in. On the landing, two agents laughed and leered as they stood over Veezara. The shadowscale glared at them from his position on the floor. Had he been in top condition, he likely could have taken them with no problem, but the wound he’d received from Cicero had weakened him too much. The agents were taunting him, thinking they had the upper hand. “What do you think?” one of them said. “A new pair of nice boots?”

 

“Nah,” the other replied. “My wife would love a new handbag.”

 

I gritted my teeth, rage burning in my heart. “If your wife gets a new handbag,” I said, “it will be from _your_ skin!” They turned and paled to see me and Lucien standing there, their shock allowing us to take them easily and quickly. Once they were taken care of, I kneeled to take stock of Veezara. “Are you alright? Can you move?”

 

“It only … hurts when I laugh,” he said with a chuckle, wincing.

 

I fetched his nearby sword, put it in his hand, and helped him to his feet. “Let’s get you out of here first,” I said, leading him quickly out of the Sanctuary and depositing him near the pond. “Shadowmere,” I called out to the steed. “Guard him.” The horse snorted and stepped close in response, understanding the order. I grabbed my pack off of him and flung it at Veezara’s feet. “There should be some health potions in there, take one. I need to go back in and see if the others are still alive.”

 

Veezara started to say something, but I couldn’t hear and I was already running back into the Sanctuary. This time, I made it into the antechamber, where Arnbjorn had transformed into a werewolf and was giving three agents a run for their money. One gave up and wanted to flee, but he ran into me and fell to his knees in terror. He received no mercy, as I used both of my daggers to cut off his head.

 

 

I may not have been particularly close to Arnbjorn, but he was still my Brother, and I would still protect him. I looked up to see that he had taken care of the second, but the third had maneuvered behind him and was poised to strike. Before I even had a chance to call out, however, Lucien materialized behind the agent, slitting his throat before the agent could sink his sword into Arnbjorn’s back. The wolfed out Arnbjorn whipped around, seeing us, seeing the dead agents at our feet, and nodded, grunting and then changing back into a man before falling onto his knees. I rushed to his side, my hand on his shoulder. “What happened? Are you okay?”

 

He shook his head. “Caught me in my leg. The others … I was trying to get to them, to help them.”

 

“I’ll get them. Lucien, can you get Arnbjorn out of here?”

 

The specter nodded, hoisting Arnbjorn to his feet and supporting the large man as he led him out of the Sanctuary. I pressed on, into the potion and enchanting room, stopping dead once more as I saw Gabriella, laid across the table, her blood dripping onto the floor. Her eyes were wide in shock and surprise and my heart clenched to see my friend splayed in such a way. Even the spider, Lis, was not spared, and though I had always kept my distance, I couldn’t say I was happy to see her body curled up on the floor. I clenched my daggers that much tighter, the rage building even higher in my chest. Finding Veezara and Arnbjorn had cheered me, but I should have known better … Festus alone should have shown me … I wasn’t going to be able to save them all.

 

 

But I was damn sure going to save as many as I could.

 

A shout and the crashing of steel broke me out of my guilt and my thoughts and I rushed into the dining room. Up above, in the living area, Nazir dueled with another agent, this one a little more skilled that the others. Likely the one that killed Gabriella. Rage and hate and anger filled me, moved me forward as I ran up the ramp and buried my daggers in his back, piercing his heart and lungs. Yanking them out of him and letting him fall, I nodded to Nazir, the non-verbal _you’re welcome_ to his unspoken _thank you_.

 

He wiped some blood away from his lips as he said, “So you _are_ alive. I was starting to wonder.”

 

“The Emperor … it was all a trap. _Someone_ set us up.”

 

“Considering the state of things, I assumed as much. And before you ask, no, I don’t think it was you. Well, maybe I did, but you saving my ass just now sort of erased any doubts.” Thought it figured, my heart hurt to hear that from him. It reminded me that Festus and Gabriella likely died thinking the same thing. Would they ever know the truth? I hoped they would. The snap of a beam in the dining room, falling onto the table and blocking the door to the potion and enchanting room, interrupting whatever Nazir was about to say.

 

“We need to get out of here!” I exclaimed. “Is there anyone else? What about Astrid? Babette?”

 

“Babette was out on another contract, she hadn’t returned yet. Astrid, I have no clue where she is, but it’s only a matter of time before we’re roasted alive. Come on!” He rushed past me and I followed him, running back toward the other way, into the antechamber. He was a few steps ahead of me, because of his long gate, but I wasn’t far behind, my eyes darting around to make sure I didn’t see someone else. Because of that, however, a beam fell right in my path, between me and Nazir, blocking my exit. I now had nowhere to run. I was trapped. “Marane!” I heard him call from over the flames.

 

“Don’t worry about me!” I replied, coughing. “Just get out of here!” I didn’t know what I was going to do, but in my mind, as long as Nazir and the rest of the Family escaped, even if I didn’t, it was all worth it. I was more content with dying like this, saving my Family, instead of being executed by the Penitus Oculatus and leaving them all to die. A worthy end, if earlier than I’d wanted.

 

Suddenly, that strange pressure returned in the back of my head, stilling me. Everything in my body relaxed as her voice swept over me. _Listener. I am your only salvation. Come. Embrace me._

 

__

 

As if in a daze, my body automatically moved to obey. Timber crashed around me as I calmly walked into the Night Mother’s room, her coffin still open … beckoning me. I didn’t hesitate to join her in her sarcophagus, closing the doors tight behind me as the fire raged on.

 

_Sleep._


	18. The Judgement of Sithis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little bit longer chapter. :) Just FYI - I know this is obviously a violent, bloody story involving assassinations and stuff, but I still wanted to give you guys a fair warning that there is a tortuous death sequence in this chapter and if torture and flaying make you uncomfortable, then tread carefully.
> 
> You have been warned.

I couldn’t entirely say what woke me first. Of course, the real question was, had I really been sleeping? Or had I been in some kind of limbo? Some state in between? I didn’t quite remember everything after I entered the Night Mother’s coffin, but through a haze I was vaguely aware of voices, but whatever they were saying wasn’t quite registering with me. I heard them, but the words they spoke seemed garbled, as if I was hearing them from under water or from a great distance. The only thing I did hear clearly was the Night Mother’s voice . _You must speak with Astrid. Here, in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. In her room, look for the door._

 

I gasped as I drew in a breath of cool air, my eyes opening at the same time. My eyesight was hazy at first, but once focused I saw Nazir kneeling over me, my mask in his hand. Behind him stood Babette and Lucien, looking on. I panted heavily, as if I’d been holding my breath for a good minute, everything starting to come into focus and come back to me. _The Night Mother, she wanted me to find Astrid. Astrid’s here, in the Sanctuary. She’s alive!_

 

I suddenly sat up, about to get on my feet, but Nazir’s hand on my shoulder stopped me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. It’s alright. You’ve been through a lot. Maybe you should just sit down for a bit.”

 

“I have to speak with Astrid. She’s here, in the Sanctuary somewhere.”

 

Nazir’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused. “Marane, nobody else made it out.”

 

I shook my head firmly. “The Night Mother said she’s here, she said … something about a door, in her room …”

 

I stood slowly, a little dizzy, and I allowed Nazir to steady me before I made my way to Astrid’s room. The fires had finally died out, leaving smouldering ruins in their wake. _How long was I out?_ I wondered. The Night Mother’s coffin had somehow fallen through the glass sigil of Sithis and into the pond below, judging by the water dripping off of the sarcophagus. Perhaps when I entered it I had knocked it off balance and it had crashed through. I couldn’t say for sure, my memory of the whole thing was a bit of a haze. Whatever the case, the Night Mother’s coffin had saved me, kept me alive until it was hauled out of the pond and opened. Slowly, I ascended the stairs to the landing, stepping around the small table and entering Astrid’s room. The whole thing had been burned, some of the timber still smoking as I kicked it around. The Night Mother had said something about a door, but the only door I saw was the one I entered …

 

I looked around some more, poking and prodding the walls, seeing if there was anything hidden, and lo and behold one of the walls gave way and exposed an alcove. And there, lying in the alcove, was Astrid. Her body was badly burned, but she was still alive, somehow. I would have thought she’d have suffocated in this space, but I wasn’t about to question the Night Mother and her gifts. “Alive … you’re alive!” she exclaimed, coughing. “Thank Sithis.”

 

My teeth clenched, almost too hard to get out her name. “Astrid …”

 

“Please,” she coughed. “There is much … I have to say. I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry. The Penitus Oculatus … Maro … he said that by giving you to them, he would leave the Dark Brotherhood alone. Forever. By Sithis, I was such a fool! All of this … it’s all my fault. You are the best of us, and I nearly killed you … as I’ve killed everyone else …”

 

“ _You_ send Marane to die? And betrayed us all?” Nazir exclaimed, stepping forward. I had almost forgotten they were there, all of my attention had been on the woman in front of me, my mind playing through what I wanted to do to her for what she had done.

 

“Yes,” she replied. “I set her up. Just like I did Cicero. I wanted her dead, just like him. I betrayed her, the Night Mother, and everything I hold dear. And now Maro has betrayed me.”

 

“You failed in that as well,” I replied. “Cicero isn’t dead. I follow the Five Tenants and I would not harm a Dark Brother, one I _suspected_ you set up.”

 

She looked surprised. “But when you returned … the blood … you said …”

 

“I said he had been dealt with. I gave him a healing potion and cleaned and bound his wounds and gave him food and supplies. I _dealt with him_.”

 

My full meaning washed over her and she nodded, blinking rapidly. “You are far better than I. I just wanted things to … to stay the way they were. Before Cicero and the Night Mother. Before … you. I thought I could save us. I was wrong. But you’re alive! So there’s still a chance, a chance to start over, rebuild. That’s why I did … this. Don’t you see? I prayed to the Night Mother! I _am_ the Black Sacrament. I saved … the Blade of Woe … for you. So you take it … and use it …”

 

I followed her gaze to another spot on the floor, and I stopped breathing for a moment as I beheld the Blade the Woe, the very same dagger that used to belong to Lucien Lachance, the one he’d given to his wife to induct her into the Dark Brotherhood. So steeped in history, I picked it up gently, with a quiet reverence. “That is why you survived, then,” I said, turning back to Astrid. “The Night Mother sustained you, kept you from dying, so that you could face _punishment_. You egregiously, repeatedly broke the First Tenet, _Never dishonour the Night Mother, to do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis_. You purposefully disrespected her to the point where her Keeper could bear it no more, provoking him, hoping to kill him and therefore break the Fifth Tenet, _Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister, to do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis_. When he escaped, you sent me to kill him instead, and had I not been steeped in the old ways since birth, I would have broken it, killing an innocent Brother. And finally, in trying to get rid of _me_ , you broke the Second Tenet, _Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets, to do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis_.” I knelt next to her head, looking her in the eye as I told her, “Were this a hundred years ago or more, you would be tried and executed in accordance with our ways. However, since there are currently only _three_ of us who are bound to the old ways - and only two present - our council will have to do.” I stood, sneering at her as I told her, “Wait here.”

 

I strode out of the alcove, Nazir, Babette, and Lucien behind me. “What are you going to do to her?” Nazir asked, still obviously reeling from the news that the Astrid that he had so faithfully served had betrayed them all.

 

I was trembling with rage, but resisted the urge to snap at the Redguard. He was lost, it was not his fault he had been led astray. Him and the rest of the survivors would have a lot to think about, surely. In the meantime, however, I had to take care of business. “I will deal with her as Lucien as I decide. We are the only two who can truly represent the Black Hand.” I paused and then added, “If you wish, I can tell you after we decide.”

 

He nodded, his eyes searching the floor. “I’ll go tend to Veezara and Arnbjorn, I … someone needs to tell them.”

 

As he turned to leave, Babette piped up, “I’ll come with you.” Turning briefly to me, she added, “I know I have no business trying to tell you what to do with her, but …” her eyes shining with unshed tears, “…I hope she suffers.” Then she was gone, trailing out the door with Nazir to break the news to the others. She hadn’t said it, but I knew she had been thinking of Gabriella. The two had been particularly close, and I knew she was well aware of her dear friend’s passing. Gabriella and I had been good friends, yes, but the bond shared between the mage and the vampire had been far more profound, built over years of trust and camaraderie. Though I was sure Babette had seen many, many of her Brothers and Sisters pass on over the years, Gabriella’s was likely one that hit her particularly hard.

 

When I heard the Black Door close, I turned to Lucien. “So, what should we do? I know what I _want_ to do, but …” I took a deep breath, “… I worry that my anger is blinding me. I do not want to invoke the Wrath of Sithis while in a rage, as justified as it may be.”

 

He crossed his arms and smirked. “I think you know well what you should do, but if you want my council … the level of her treachery is exhaustive. She deserves nothing less than the highest punishment, reserved for the worst offenses.”

 

“You mean … what they did to you …”

 

His eyes narrowed. “She deserves nothing less, don’t you think?”

 

“And this would be the Will of Sithis?”

 

He nodded. “I am sure of it. Go now, and carry out the sentence without guilt or fear. I will remain with the others.” He unfolded his arms and looked about to leave when he paused and looked me in the eye. “If you find your will faltering … remember Festus and Gabriella, forever gone into the Void because of her. Remember Cicero and how you found him bleeding out because of what she did. Her crimes are evident, she has admitted guilt. Carry out the sentence as only a true Dark Sister can.”

 

I nodded, grateful for his seal of approval. With that, he faded into the aether, no doubt materializing on the outside of the door. I sighed as I fingered the Blade of Woe, returning to the small alcove where Astrid lay, breathing heavily through the pain of her wounds. That, of course, was nothing compared to what I was about to do to her. “Are you going to do it, then? Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

 

“Oh yes, I will kill you,” I said as I kneeled by her body. “But not right now. You will suffer the same sentence that was passed down to Lucien Lachance, though _his_ death was unwarranted. Yours, however …” I flashed a dangerous smile, “… yours is rightly deserved.”

 

A look of fear passed over Astrid’s face, but she was in no position to resist. I took out the Blade of Woe, admiring it in the candle light, running my fingers gently over the blade. Lucien had carried this very dagger, passing it on down through the Dark Brotherhood, from worthy Brother to worthy Sister. His wife, Alesinne had carried it after his death, but she gave it back to the Brotherhood after her death. It wasn’t a Lachance family heirloom, it belonged to the Family. Various Lachances had carried it over the years, though, and now it rested in my hands, ready and willing to do as I would with it. Right now, it was Astrid’s flesh that begged for it. And so I gave it what it wanted. I started with her thigh, cleaning slicing through the skin, separating it from the muscle and peeling it back, from hip to knee. Astrid’s screams echoed in the small, sparse alcove, making an almost melodic accompaniment to my work. I finished skinning her down one leg and then up another before I moved to her stomach, and by then she was gasping and shaking, moaning softly in shock.

 

She let out another scream as I pierced through her abdomen, cutting through the burned tissue and peeling it away. Before I went down her arms, I paused for a moment, debating. After a moment’s though, I reached up and started with her head, cutting off the skin of her face, her lips, her nose. The blade slid under her scalp as if it was cutting nothing more than butter, and she continued to scream, though she had no lips to contain her sounds. As one last thing, I cut out her tongue before I went down her arms, pulling back all the skin so she was flayed open completely on the floor. I was almost finished now, Astrid was a whimpering mess, alive only so I could extract this punishment. For this, I would be forever grateful to the Night Mother and Sithis. As I hovered over Astrid’s trembling form, switching the hold of my blade, I told her, “After I finish this, know that I will hang your body outside, to serve as a warning to those who would betray us.” With that, I plunged the knife into her heart and twisted.

 

Her body jerked and she heaved one last breath before her eyes dimmed and she joined the Void. I wouldn’t lie, that was my most satisfying kill I think I had ever performed. Nothing else quite compared to it. The rush, the satisfaction … I barely even noticed the blood coating my hands and covering my armor. It wouldn’t be until much later that I realized that blood had spattered on my own face and that, along with my wild hair, made me look like a woman possessed. I was on a mission, carrying out the Will of Sithis. That was all that mattered. And completing it felt amazing, like an enormous relief. Like one had been swimming underwater for a little too long and finally breached the surface and sucked in a breath of air. That. That kind of relief. I felt almost dizzy with achievement.

 

But I wasn’t done yet.

 

What I’d told Astrid was true, and I intended to carry it out to the letter. The Black Hand had done no less to Lucien. I would do the same to Astrid, one who actually _deserved_ it, unlike my own ancestor. I grabbed her by her ankle and hauled her body up and out of the Sanctuary, refusing to acknowledge anyone until I was done. I might have gotten some odd looks from the group, but I wouldn’t know as I dropped her body in the grass, heading straight for Shadowmere and pulling a length of rope off of his saddle. Once I tied some appropriate knots, I tied her ankles together and threw the other end of the branch of a nearby tree, hauling her up to be displayed like a slain animal. Once I secured her, I finally turned to regard my Family, most of them wide-eyed in shock. They knew she wasn’t going to live, of course, but to see my cruel handiwork displayed … it caught them a little off guard. Arnbjorn especially looked like he was going to be sick, and I hoped I wasn’t going to have to deal with him later. The silence was almost deafening, even the birds and small animals staying quiet. I felt inclined to say something, to address them in some way. “This is what happens when you betray the Dark Brotherhood. When you continually break the Tenets. When you give up our secrets and act to put Dark Brothers and Sisters to the sword. This punishment was carried out not out of malice, but to the letter of what Sithis himself decreed.” I eyed Arnbjorn specifically and said, “I’m not going to pretend Astrid and I saw eye to eye, that this kill did not bring me some amount of pleasure, but had she not done as she did, I would have never raised my blade to her. No matter how many disagreements we got into, I would have respected her as I would any other Sister.” I paused as I added, “I am sorry for taking your wife from you, but she brought it on herself. I hope I do not need to explain myself further.”

 

He swallowed hard and shook his head. “I loved Astrid, killed for her, would have died for her … but she offered us all up to be killed, even me, someone she said she loved. I … it’s hard to believe she moved against us all like this. I won’t … I can’t _not_ mourn her, but I don’t blame you. Not in the least.” The last part was said with his teeth clenched, almost in a growl. Like he was angry. He seemed to understand even better than I’d hoped. Out of all of us, I figured he hurt the deepest, feeling the most betrayed by his love. I couldn’t say I envied him his pain.

 

Nazir shook his head. “By the sands, I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

 

Babette sighed mournfully. “If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I wouldn’t have believed it. How could she have done this to us?”

 

Someone else spoke up, but whoever it was and whatever they said, I couldn’t hear it. That pressure returned in the back of my skull, and my world suddenly slid out of focus as the Night Mother spoke. _Astrid is dead. It is as it should be. May she find redemption in the Void. But while you live, the Dark Brotherhood lives. We must fulfill our contract. Emperor Titus Mede II must be eliminated. Speak with Amaud Motierre at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. He will know the true Emperor’s location. But first, inform the others of your plans. For you are the Listener, and must bind this Family together._

 

I blinked rapidly as reality slid back into place. I heard a voice near me, low and concerned. “Listener? Listener? Marane?” Nazir’s face appeared by my side and I felt his hand on my shoulder.

 

I shook my head as I replied, “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

 

He chuckled. “I said, by Sithis, what a mess. I guess this is the end.”

 

I smirked. “Not exactly. The Night Mother has spoken to me again, just now.”

 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What? Well … what did she say?”

 

“That I must speak to Amaund Motierre once more.”

 

“Amaund Motierre? Does that mean …”

 

My smile grew wider. “The contract is still on. The true Emperor must be assassinated.”

 

“You mean … there’s still a chance? But how? Our plan has fallen apart, the Sanctuary is in ruin, the Family …”

 

I gripped his shoulder, returning him to reality. “Our Family lives on, Nazir. You have to trust me.”

 

He took a deep breath, looking over at the remnants of our group. Veezara still laid on the ground, tended to by Babette, and Arnbjorn sat beside him not making a sound. Lucien stood as silent as a stone pillar near Astrid’s body, which was strung up on the same tree that Festus had been pinned to, a gruesome juxtaposition of the price and penalty of hubris. We were not the same as we were before. Half of us were injured and unable to attend to any duties at all for a while, and we were all in mourning in some way. From the outside, we certainly looked like we were broken. But I could see beyond that, could see the potential. It wasn’t a break, merely a sprain, and I was the bandage to wrap us up and steady us. I wasn’t sure if Nazir could see it or not, but he sighed and nodded. “Alright then. Go. Go, my Listener. Find out what that slimy bastard has to say, then send the Emperor to Sithis. Ah, but when you’re done, there’s no use returning here, is there?”

 

I chuckled softly. “Not really.”

 

“We were talking earlier,” Babette chimed in. “The Dawnstar Sanctuary … it’s old and hasn’t been used in years, but it’s still functional, yes? We could make our home there.”

 

I nodded. “I was going to suggest that. Just one thing …” I looked over to the specter standing silent guard and asked, “Lucien, I’ll need you to either go ahead or go with them. I’m not sure Cicero would be overly pleased to see them …”

 

Lucien nodded and I heard a deep, rumbling chuckle from him. “Of course. I will make sure the jester isn’t caught off guard,” he said before he vanished.

 

“Cicero lives?” Arnbjorn asked, puzzled.

 

I looked from him to Babette and Nazir and the Redguard shook his head. “We hadn’t gotten to telling them that yet.”

 

I nodded to confirm. “Yes, he lives. When I said I dealt with him … well, I never outright said I killed him, did I?”

 

Arnbjorn chuckled and shook his head. “I should have known. How do we know he won’t kill us when we enter, even if Lucien tells him?”

 

“He holds to the Five Tenets, same as I do. He will not harm a Dark Brother or Sister, unless they break one of the Tenets themselves. You’ll all be fine.”

 

With my assurances, they seemed sufficiently accepting. Nazir spoke up next, “I’ll find a cart so we can load up the Night Mother and take everyone to the new Sanctuary. Don’t worry about it, you just focus on Motierre and the Emperor. Now go. And come back with a barrel full of gold, hmm?”

 

I grinned. “And when have I ever let you down?”


	19. Darkness rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention, attention! This is the next to last chapter! There is only one more chapter left to write in this particular story ... but that doesn't mean this is over for Marane. I do plan on making a series of sorts for the Dark Brotherhood, in which this is the first installment. I'm not sure when the rest will be written and posted, but I just wanted to let you know ... there will be more from Marane. :)

I rode Shadowmere much more gently to Whiterun, compared to the frantic, wild pace I’d set from Solitude. There was still some urgency in the air, but we weren’t far from Whiterun as it was, and within a couple of hours we were pulling up to the stables. The poor stable boy was spooked as he got a glimpse of Shadowmere, hauling himself into the house and refusing to reappear, forcing the stable master himself to take care of him. I assured him I wouldn’t be long and tipped him generously, but he still took the reigns from me uneasily, as if he expected the unusual steed to suddenly unhinge his jaw and eat the man whole.

 

Whiterun was bustling as always, and I was grateful for the mask I wore, as Hulda wouldn’t recognize me as the erstwhile bar maid she’d hired that had up and disappeared right around the time that young Imperial was found dead. That would have been quite awkward. Instead, I breezed into the Bannered Mare, nodded at Hulda, and made my way to the back room, where I assumed the nobleman would be staying. There were only two rooms available for patrons, so if I was wrong, it was only a short trip up the stairs, but fortunately I was correct in my assumption. I entered the room without hesitation and the man sighed annoyingly, not even looking up from the papers he had strewn on the table as he said, “What is it? I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

 

“We have unfinished business, Motierre.”

 

His head immediately snapped up and he paled as he realized who was standing there. “By the gods, you’re alive! But I had heard you … your Sanctuary … please, you mustn’t think _I_ had anything to do with that! I wanted the Emperor dead, the _true_ Emperor! I still do! It was that damn Maro, he …”

 

“The Emperor,” I interrupted. “The _real_ Emperor. Where is he?”

 

Motierre paused, almost confused. “You mean, after all that’s transpired, the Dark Brotherhood will still honour the contract? Why, this is astounding news! Wonderful news! The Emperor is still in Skyrim, yes, but not for long. He’s onboard his ship, the _Katariah_ , moored offshore in the Solitude Inlet. But you must hurry! If you can get onboard that ship and kill Titus Mede II as contracted, then I will reveal the location of the dead drop that holds your payment.

 

I nodded. “Thank you.” I turned to leave, but then paused, asking, “Commander Maro. Where is he?”

 

Motierre chuckled. “Ah yes, I can imagine you’d want to settle that score. Last I heard, he was going to and from on the Solitude docks, overseeing the Emperor’s departure.”

 

“Excellent. I’ll report back when I’ve finished.”

 

“Yes. And please, make haste. The Emperor’s ship won’t stay moored forever. We won’t get a chance like this again.”

 

I think the stable master was quite glad to be rid of Shadowmere. Even though he stood there stoically, on his best behaviour, his presence was more than a little unnerving to the average person. I tipped him generously for his trouble before I mounted him, guiding him back onto the road and heading toward Solitude. I was immensely grateful to have a horse of my own, as it made the journey that much easier. I headed north and then kept to the short mountain range there before curving off and going into the marshlands that surrounded Morthal. It was much easier than following the road, much quicker. I tried not to push Shadowmere as hard, but I was still pretty antsy as we stopped here and there so he could drink some water. I did at least take advantage of those breaks and hopped down to stretch my legs, hoping I wouldn’t be as sore as I thought I would be once I finally made it back to Dawnstar. _Fat chance_ , I huffed to myself as I bent down to touch my toes, feeling the nice pull of the muscles in my back and thighs before I stood back up.

 

As I did, I momentarily started to see Lucien standing there. He grinned at my reaction and I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Damn specter. “Did the Family get settled in?” I asked.

 

“They haven’t arrived just yet. It’s slow going with two wounded and the Night Mother. But I told Cicero what had happened and helped him prepare for their arrival.” He paused before he added, “He made me tell him, in explicit detail, what you did to Astrid.”

 

“Oh?”

 

He chuckled. “Judging by his reaction, he was quite pleased.”

 

It was my turn to laugh as I turned to remount Shadowmere. “I met with Motierre, he said the Emperor is on a ship just off of Solitude. And Maro should be somewhere near the docks. What say you we pay them both a visit?”

 

His smile grew, dangerous and dark. “It would be my pleasure to accompany you, Listener.”

 

I ended up leaving Shadowmere on a little inlet just abreast of the ship. Not in visual range, but close enough so that I could swim over to it once I left the _Katariah_. First, though, there was still unfinished business left at the docks. After instructing Shadowmere to meet me there - just for the backup, just in case - I dove into the water.

 

I was forever thankful that my parents had wanted to include a well-rounded education in my upbringing. They had included so many things that weren’t always covered, and swimming was one of them. They’d had some Argonian friends who had shown me the best way to swim underwater, and while I could never be as good as they were, they said I did very well for a landstrider. The skill had become quite invaluable over the years, enabling me to not only sneak up on targets but also escape undetected. One time in particular a random maid had sounded the alarm and had sent guards after me, and the only reason I’d been able to escape capture was diving into a nearby river. The current had been strong, and the guards had probably assumed I’d drowned, but thanks to my extensive training, I’d escaped mostly unscathed. This time, it was the Solitude docks that were my goal, and I slowly made my way towards it, finding an entry point near where the East Empire company held its office. With a stroke of luck, Maro was standing on that dock, the furthest point from any guards, and he turned to hear someone breach the water.

 

It must have been quite the sight to see me standing there, my braid dripping, decked out in full Dark Brotherhood armor, including my mask, my daggers drawn. “By the gods … you!” he exclaimed. “But it can’t be. You’re supposed to be dead!” His face twisted in a rage as he drew his sword, but it was too late. I heard Shadowmere’s hooves pounding on the dock behind me, and the sight of the strange steed startled Maro, just enough to let down his guard and I took the advantage, attacking with a fury. Sure, I killed his son. As I was contracted to do. I always held the policy of directing anger appropriately, and had he done so, he would have tried to find who ordered the contract and kill _them_. Instead, he had to go after my Family. Festus and Gabriella were now dead because of him, and I was sure as hell going to channel my anger at the right target.

 

He managed to parry my blow at the last second, ducking and then lunging to strike, but my daggers redirected his blow and I jammed the edge of one of them into the nerve at the top of his shoulder. Crying out, he went to one knee, and it was then I took advantage of the position, slashing through his throat with both of my daggers, nearly decapitating him.

 

 

I took just a moment to admire my handiwork. I wished I had more time, so I could properly string him up as an example, but I didn’t have that luxury right now. Instead, I turned around to catch sight of the _Katariah_ , gripping my daggers, a growing sense of anxiety and glee growing within me. I was close, now, so close. This was the real deal this time, no going back, no second chances. I would kill the emperor and bring my Family a glory it had not known in decades. It was no small feat. I would still have to get through the actual ship itself, take care of all the men that were guarding him. But I would do it. I couldn’t fail.

 

 

I took a deep breath and addressed Lucien. “You’ll be with me?”

 

“Of course, Listener.”

 

“Good, I may need some help taking care of the guards. If the security on that ship is anything like I’m thinking it is … it will be extensive.” I slipped my daggers back into their sheaths. “And I don’t want to leave a man alive.” I turned to Shadowmere and asked, “You remember where to wait for me?” He neighed and shook his mane, an answer in the affirmative, before he took off back down the docks. I could already hear some guards questioning what a horse was doing out there, my time was short already. Before they could catch a glimpse of me, I jumped off the dock, leaving Maro’s body behind for them to find.

 

It was an even longer swim to get to the ship, and it took a few tries to even find a good point to board, but I finally slipped in a small cargo door on the side, slipping into the bottom of the ship, Lucien close behind me. I took a moment to prepare myself, ringing out my hair and my mask and hoping that the dripping wouldn’t cost me my stealth. I didn’t quite have the time to wring out everything, but I supposed that would have to do. As I readjusted my mask, I heard a couple of sailors at the other end of the hold. It sounded like they were hauling something rather heavy, and drew near to my position, but they didn’t discover me as they set down whatever it was they were carrying with a big huff.

 

“And that’s the last one,” one of them said. “Alright, enough of this. Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

 

“Gods, I’ll be glad to see the last of Skyrim. Murder, rebellion, and we sail right into the middle of it with the Emperor on board.”

 

“I think we’ll all feel better once we’re back out at sea. Won’t be long now.”

 

_Correction … you’ll all feel better once you’re dead._ I stealthily drew my daggers and snuck around the corner, Lucien and I taking them both down simultaneously. He nodded and grinned at me and I lead the way through the ship, killing every last sailor and Penitus Oculatus agent that we found. I could have simply slipped past a good many of them, leaving them to discover the others dead, along with the Emperor. But this was personal now. Maro had made it that way. I might have been content with simply taking out Titus Mede II, felling only those who got in my way, but by targeting my Family, everyone on board was now fair game. My daggers dripped with blood as we made our way through the vessel, arriving finally outside the Emperor’s quarters. There were two guards on either side of the door, but they were short work between Lucien and I. The only thing that stood between me and the Emperor was a locked door, but picking locks was nothing new, and I soon had it unlocked. Casting a glance over to the specter at my side, I wordlessly confirmed that he was ready and then pushed open the door.

 

Titus Mede II sat at a desk at the end of the room, a book in his hand, but upon hearing the door creak open he looked up and smiled. Chuckling, he started clapping before he said, “And, once more, I prove Commander Maro the fool. I told him you can’t stop the Dark Brotherhood. Never could. Come now, don’t by shy. You haven’t come this far just to stand there gawking.”

 

 

 

Certainly a strange reaction to seeing two well-honed assassins enter his room. I had to give him points for facing his death without fear. Most would have cowered and whimpered had I approached them directly, had they seen it coming. “You were … expecting me?” I asked as I drew nearer to him, my daggers leaving a trail of dripping blood across the floor.

 

“But of course. You and I have a date with destiny. But so it is with assassins and emperors, hmm? But I wonder … would you suffer an old man a few more words before the deed is done?”

 

Interesting. “I’m listening.”

 

“I thank you for your courtesy.” He cleared his throat and then continued, “You will kill me and I have well accepted that fate. But regardless of your path through life, I sense in your a certain … quality. An ambition. You aren’t a mindless killer, and so I ask of you a favour. An old man’s dying wish, if you will. While there are many who would see me dead, there is only one who has set the machine in motion. This person, whomever he or she may be, should be punished for their treachery. Once you have been rewarded for my assassination, I would like you to kill the very person who ordered it.” He took off his signet ring and set it on the desk, adding, “I know you could simply take this once you kill me either way, but … would you do me this kindness?”

 

Oh ho ho, so the old man would turn the tables on Motierre? Now this really was interesting. I glanced at Lucien, who was already grinning ominously, and so I made a decision. “I will honour your request, Emperor … _if_ you will perform the Black Sacrament.” I looked him in the eyes and lowered my mask. “Make a pact with the Night Mother, and I’ll send the one who ordered your assassination to the Void myself.”

 

“Very well. If this will grant me some justice, then I will do it.”

 

Lucien had already disappeared to fetch one of the guards’ bodies to use, and with a little effort, I found some nightshade and an iron dagger for the Emperor to use. I stood back, arms crossed, as he performed the ritual, and it wasn’t long before that pressure settled itself in the back of my head. _Do as the Emperor requests. Kill Motierre once he has given you the location of the dead drop. This is the Will of Sithis, a contract bound in blood._

 

That was all I needed. As the Emperor rose to his feet, he asked, “Well?”

 

I nodded. “The Night Mother has heard your plea, and it is set now.”

 

He sighed in relief. “Good. Thank you, for indulging me. Now, it is time. I won’t fight you, so we may as well get this over with.” He dropped the iron dagger and crossed the floor to look out the window. One last look before his soul was sent to the Void. I could respect that. I picked up my daggers from where they had been set on the desk and quietly traversed the distance between us. With a swipe of my blade, it was over, and Titus Mede II slumped to the floor, his blood pooling around him.

 

I took a deep breath, reveling in the moment. This was the most momentous kill I’d ever done. This is the one that would change everything for us. Indeed, so much had changed already, and this only cemented our new direction. Astrid was dead. Festus and Gabriella and Lis were dead. The Falkreath Sanctuary was in ruins. But there was hope now. The Dawnstar Sanctuary had been reopened, and the rest of the Family were now much more amenable to returning to the old ways, the very thing I had wanted from the beginning. This had been a long time coming, so much blood, sweat, and tears shed over this. But we were here.

 

And Sithis be damned if I wasn’t going to enjoy it.


	20. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wow, I can't believe this is the last chapter! A big thank you goes out to all my readers, on here, on facebook, on tumblr, who had always encouraged me. Your support has kept me going, and I hope you truly enjoy Marane's final chapter here. This is, of course, only part one of a series, so I know I will be writing her again, but parting is still bittersweet. :)

On the way back to Whiterun, I stopped only once, at the Inn in Rorikstead, for a little well-earned nap. I wouldn’t truly rest, not until I was back in Dawnstar and things were running smoothly, but with the whirlwind of what had just happened, the complete upset in my life, I needed a little sleep. I only allowed myself about five hours, and then I was back on the road, Whiterun in view by the time the sun was rising. Perhaps it was just me, but the sunrise that morning was particularly glorious. It was the dawn of brand new day, in so many ways that the majority of Tamriel did not even know of yet. I couldn’t yet wait to see how this news would be taken by the citizens, to revel and glory in their reactions, whether good or bad. To know that I had affected so much sent a thrill through my body, waking my mind and refreshing my body in a way that not even a full night’s sleep could do.

 

Back in the Bannered Mare, Motierre was in the same room, waiting on me. He didn’t even flinch when I opened the door, merely looked up and smiled slyly. “Aha, you’re back!”

 

Closing the door behind me, I nodded. “I am. Titus Mede II lies dead.”

 

“Excellent, excellent! I just received the news not moments ago via carrier pigeon. This is just glorious! My friend, you may not realize it, but you have served the Empire - indeed, _all_ of Tamriel - in ways you cannot possibly imagine. Ah, but you care little for politics, am I right? You want money! And money you shall have. Your payment waits for you at a dead drop, inside an urn in the very chamber where we first met, in Volunruud. Now please, go. Collect your money and let us never look upon one another again. Our business, thank the gods, is concluded.”

 

I nodded, making to take my leave of him, when I spoke once more. “Actually, Motierre, there is one more thing …”

 

“Oh? And what might that be?”

 

My fists clenched my daggers, the muscles in my legs taut, ready to spring. “Just a favour for an old man.” Before Motierre could reply, I had lunged forward and sliced cleanly through his neck. The surprise on his face was evident, but he had not the voice to speak it. “Sorry, Amaund. Just business. You understand, of course.” The Emperor’s signet ring sat heavy in my pocket. It wasn’t the only thing I had ended up taking from his quarters, but it was the only thing of significance. I could think of no poetic justice better than an Emperor ordering the assassination of the one who had ordered his, and since the Night Mother had accepted it, I had gladly followed through with it. Motierre slumped in his chair as he expired right then and there, his blood spilling over the table and across the parchment that he had been looking over. I quietly slipped out of the door and out the Inn, aiming to be out of the city by the time the body was discovered. I would have to avoid both Solitude and Whiterun for a little while, make sure that no fuss was being made over my appearance at these higher profile crimes. Once things had died down, I could move a little more freely. But until then, I would stick to other holds.

 

Volunruud was, quite fortunately, on the way to the Dawnstar Sanctuary, so I only needed to take a very short detour on the way back. Sure enough, the large urn held a sizable bag of septims, along with a bank note that confirmed the amount to be 20,000. I whistled low as I hauled it up and loaded it onto Shadowmere, taking it easy on the steed as we rode the rest of the way to the Sanctuary.

 

I was pleased to see that the place was already starting to be fixed up a little. It would take quite a bit of work, still, but it was functioning well for the inhabitants that currently occupied it. Cicero was up and at em a little bit more than the last time I’d seen him, and Veezara and Arnbjorn were resting comfortably while they recuperated. Babette tended to them while she scurried here and there, assisting Nazir and Cicero with the cleaning up of the Sanctuary. Speaking of, I found Nazir in the main room, where there was a cooking pot and several tables to eat at, undoubtedly taking a little break as he wiped his brow just as I descended the stairs. He looked up and grinned widely to see me approach. “Well? What word of the Emperor?”

 

“He is dead. It is done.”

 

“Truly?” he said with a laugh. “Could you have brought us more wondrous news? Recent events notwithstanding, this is a happy day for us, my friend. We all have been baptized by fire, and you helped lead us through. For this, you have my eternal gratitude. Now, of course, I must ask … killing the Emperor … how much did Motierre pay for such a thing?”

 

“5,000,” I deadpanned.

 

“Is that all? Really?” he asked in disbelief. “Come now, you’re joking with me, aren’t you? Surely the Emperor’s life was worth more than that!”

 

I chuckled as I conceded. “Of course it was. The dead drop contained 20,000 septims.”

 

He burst out laughing. “Ha, I knew it! You little rascal. By Sithis, the old man was worth the trouble. Now, might I offer some advice? You should go to Riften and find Delvin Mallory. I believe Astrid had you visit him once before, no? He’s an expert … _obtainer of goods_. We could use this gold to repair and refit this Sanctuary. Make a real home for us, eh? What do you think?”

 

It was an excellent idea, truly, and after a good night’s rest, I was off to Riften. I would have liked to rest longer, but I was the Listener, and as such I had a duty to make the Sanctuary we were in completely livable and comfortable, not just for its current occupants but for future ones as well. Cicero also didn’t want to see me go so soon, but he knew that I had responsibilities to attend to, and so he simply gave me a kiss goodbye before he went back to tending the Night Mother.

 

Once in Riften, I sought out Delvin immediately, hoping he would still do business with me despite the fact that Astrid was dead. I could have lied to him, of course, tell him that I was doing this on Astrid’s orders, but I knew he could probably find out for himself about her death, and so I figured it would be best to be upfront about it. For the sake of his friendship, I left out the bloody details, but I did imply that her paranoia had gotten the best of her and she’d turned on us all. He’d shook his head as he sighed. “Lass had a pretty good head on her shoulders. But, I guess, that was a long time ago.” He took a long swig from his tankard before he added, “So, from the sound of things, I take it this isn’t a social call, eh?”

 

I shook my head. “Because our Sanctuary was razed to the ground, we will need a new place to stay. We have one, an older Sanctuary, just north of Dawnstar. But, well, it hasn’t been used in quite some time and it desperately needs an update.”

 

We spent the next couple of hours discussing plans for the new place. I drew up some simple schematics for him so he could know the feel of the place, and we both suggested things that might be needed to make it cozy and comfortable for everyone. Aside from new furniture, I wanted to add a Poisoner’s nook, for Babette, which he really seemed to pounce on. A torture chamber was a must, of course, for those jobs that needed just a little bit more effort or a more personal touch. I loved his suggestion of a secret entrance on the other side of Dawnstar, and he even suggested outfitting new rooms - including a nice one for myself - and some new banners and such to decorate the place. I had raised my eyebrows when he suggested the decorations - admittedly, interior design wasn’t my thing, but we were assassins not noblemen - but he insisted that in order to help us feel more at home, a personal touch was needed. He gave me a discount on top of that, so I shrugged and agreed. He was quite the negotiator, but I bargained him down on some things as well, and at the end we shook hands. It had taken much of the gold that we had gotten from the Emperor’s kill, but it would be worth it to give us a good, strong start on this new path. “Glad to do business with ya,” he said, a crooked grin on his face. “I hope you’ll be happy with all the changes, now. Good luck with your, um … murders.”

 

I chuckled and bid him goodbye, leaving just as swiftly and as silently as I’d arrived. We had arranged for the payment to be left at a dead drop - after all, it would be too conspicuous to lug 20,000 worth of septims through Riften - and once I deposited it in the agreed upon location, I made my way back to Dawnstar.

 

The dead drop had taken me a little out of the way, and so I was much later arriving back at the Sanctuary than I’d originally anticipated. There were already workers coming and going, working on bettering the Sanctuary when I arrived. There would be a lot of work to be done, especially with the secret entrance, but once it was finished it would all be well worth it.

 

I checked on everyone in turn, making sure they were all good and comfortable and everything was going well. Nazir was going to be working on recruiting more members, and I vowed my own help as well. There had been a couple of mercenary types that I thought were potential fits, but would need a little observation before they were invited. One in particular was a very interesting Dagi-Raht Khajiit that was light on her feet and quick with her blades. I passed on the information to Nazir and made my way back to what was to become my room. It was the same one that Cicero had fixed for himself once, the only one that had a bed that wasn’t broken at the time, but I wanted him to stay with me. It was nice having him around, and our initial bond seemed like it had somehow deepened, even without me noticing it. I sighed and chuckled as traversed the worn stone path that led to the room. Was I somehow getting soft with age? And, perhaps the bigger question … did I even care? I suspected I already knew the answer.

 

“And what is the Listener laughing about, hmm?” Cicero asked, reclining on the bed at the moment.

 

I shook my head. “Nothing, really.”

 

“Ah. You know, they say that’s a sign of madness.”

 

“Oh is it?”

 

“Yes. I should know, shouldn’t I?” Cicero replied with a chuckle, getting up and crossing the floor to stand by me. Well, what I really meant was stand _in front of_ me. He reached behind me to close the door and then gently undid the fastenings that held my mask in place, all while standing a hair’s breadth in front of me. I could practically _feel_ when he took a breath, but I couldn’t say I minded as my mask slowly slipped off and he shared a long, slow kiss with me. “Now,” he said when we parted, peppering me with kisses in between his words, “I want you … to tell me … _everything_ … that you did … to that little _harlot_.”

 

I grinned. “I thought Lucien told you everything?”

 

“Oh he did, but …” more kisses, “… he wasn’t there _when you did it_ … and besides … I want to hear from _you_ … how it _felt_ …”

 

Chucking, I teased, “Did the idea of Astrid’s punishment get you all hot and bothered?”

 

“Perhaps …” he said with a light chuckle against my lips, “… or maybe … it was the idea … of _you_ doing it …”

 

“Oh …” I said, getting out only bits and pieces between his kisses, “… is that … what it was?”

 

He nodded, “I think so.” He then pushed me against the door, fully pressing his body against mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close to me as his lips drifted from mine, across my jaw, and down my neck, sending a shiver up my spine. “Now … are you going to tell me?”

 

I gasped as he licked at a certain sensitive spot on my neck as I said, “Of course. Anything for my dear, sweet CIcero.” With that, I pushed back against him, spinning and then pinning him against a nearby wall, taking control for just a moment as I gave him a similar treatment, trailing kisses and licks and bites down his neck as my hands roamed underneath his shirt. “First, of course … I had to consult with Lucien … make sure that her punishment … was _just_ … that it was the Will of Sithis … he agreed with me that … she should receive that same … punishment for her … treachery as he did.” Cicero groaned and closed his eyes, his hands gripping my shoulders. I reached up to work at the fastenings on his shirt as I continued, “So I went back to her … and told her … what was coming … and then … I started …” Despite being distracted by both my words and my lips, Cicero managed to reach over and tug on the string that held the end of my braid together, pulling it up and then combing through my hair so it was left loose. While he had done that, I had managed to get his shirt open and was running my fingers over his chest. “I started … at one thigh … skinning it all the way down … before I did the other leg from the foot up … then I worked across her stomach … and her chest …”

 

I ended with a yelp as Cicero suddenly seized control, pulling me over to the bed and locking his body on top of mine with a fierce kiss. I felt his fingers fumbling with my armor, and I moved to help him as best as I could without breaking the kiss. For a moment, the story was completely forgotten as we were a mess of tangled limbs and lips, fiercely fighting to gain and hold any control we could get. It wasn’t until we were both disrobed from the waist up that Cicero parted and asked, panting, “And after that?”

 

I grinned. This really was turning him on, in a way, if the hardness pressed against my thigh was any indication. Some might consider that a little strange, others still a little too strange, but for me it was just right. Just what I _needed_.

 

A little madness.

 

“Then I started on her face …”

 

I didn’t have time to even give thought about what I was going to say next as Cicero’s lips sealed around a nipple at the same time as his fingers wormed their way inside my pants. The fingers of one of my hands carded through his bright red hair as the other hand gripped the sheets with a death hold. He expertly teased me for a few minutes before he stopped completely. “Go on,” he breathed, hovering over me, poised to move as soon as I started speaking.

 

I took in a shaky breath before I continued, “I cut off her liiiiips …” I slurred as his fingers brushed my entrance, my hips bucking upwards in encouragement. I couldn’t stop now, not when I was so close, and my brain scrambled for the words, trying so hard to put two and two together into some form of coherent sentence. “… and then her nose … I skinned her whole face … and scalp …” I had to pause at that moment because that’s when he finally chose to slip his finger inside me. My eyes closed as the hand that was in his hair found better purchase on his shoulder and he moaned as my fingernails sank into the soft meat there. I swallowed before I forced myself to focus and finish, despite the fact that he had added a second finger and that he was slowly moving them in and out of me. “… I finished with her arms, and then … then I … I told her … what I was … going to do with her body …”

 

At that Cicero moved like lightening. One moment he was hovering over me and the next he had ripped everything off of my body and was standing, tearing off his own clothes like a madman. I barely had a moment to process it all before he was on top of me and his lips were crashing into mine with a bruising force. With a tug of my hips and a jerk of his, he entered me, filling me to the point where I wasn’t sure I could take any more. His girth was breathtaking and I was gulping in air as best as I could between his kisses. He hadn’t even started to move yet, giving me time to adjust, but I knew, I just knew that as soon as he did, it would be slow and tortuous as he forced me to continue the story to the end. I decided to wrest that control from him as I used his weight to flip him over so I was on top.

 

Cicero let out a small yelp of surprise, but judging by the grin on his face, he wasn’t displeased by any means. I steadied myself by placing my hands on his chest and his fingers glided over my body, down my arms, across my ribs, until they settled at my hips. Our eyes locked as I began the movement, making it slow and tortuous on my terms. My dark hair slid over my shoulder as tilted my head, looking Cicero in the eye as I licked my lips and continued, “I told her what I was going to do … how I was going to drag her body … outside … and string it up in a tree … as a warning … to those who betray the Family … the Dark Brotherhood …” I paused for a moment as Cicero started rolling his hips upward, gripping my hips as he was utterly entranced with both the story and my body. “And then … I took the Blade of Woe … and I plunged it into her heart …”

 

It was Cicero’s turn to throw me off, as he repeated the action I had used earlier, using my weight to flip me over before he drove into me at his own, frantic pace. His lips crushed mine at first but then wandered down my neck, scraping his teeth and biting against the sensitive skin there. My fingernails dug into his skin, scratching at his back and shoulders, enough to draw blood with some. There was no more talking, no more words, only actions. In that space there was only us and our bodies and that was all that we needed. I’d never known the act of sex to be anything intimate. Most of the time, I used it to ply my targets for information or put them at ease with me before I sliced their throat. It was nothing, just a carnal act, a means to an end. But this … with Cicero, it was so different. Every movement, every touch was significant. My skin felt like it was on fire and Cicero’s touch burned me but it only made me want more. It drove me to madness the closer and closer to the edge that I got. I wrapped my legs around his waist and arched my back, moaning as loudly as I dared as his teeth sank into the meat of my neck, enough to bruise it. The pain only fed into the pleasure as we drew closer and closer to each other, pulling each other as close as we could physically be without melding our skin together, and somehow it still wasn’t enough. I wanted more, _needed_ more, especially since I was skirting the edge now. I could see it, like the sun just on the horizon, it was so close, teasing me until it finally crested and I was tossed off the edge. My face nestled into the crook of his shoulder, I clung to him as I finally came undone, shuddering and trembling through my release.

 

Cicero’s hips stuttered as he felt my muscles contract around him, his moans muffled by the fact that his face was buried in my neck. As the waves of orgasm lessened for me and my grip on him subsequently loosened, he rose just a little bit, just enough to meet my lips with his again, his rhythm now focused and merciless. As he parted, he was breathing heavy, sweat dripping from his brow as he opened his eyes halfway. He was trying to drive himself over that edge as well, to join me in my bliss. I cupped his face with both of my hands as I whispered, “Cicero, sweet Cicero, come with me. Join me. Join your Listener …”

 

He gasped and shuddered, slamming into me one last time before he buried himself as deeply as he could in me as he came. Resting his forehead against mine, he otherwise didn’t move as he worked through his own orgasm, not opening his eyes until it had mostly passed. As he moved to kiss me, I knew that this was truly the start of a brand new life.

 

———

 

_My name is Marane Lachance._

 

_I venture you’ve heard of me by now. The leader of the Dark Brotherhood, the one who killed the Emperor, slaughtering his entire crew and guard in her wake. The news has spread now that he is dead, that we were the ones who killed him. It has sent shockwaves throughout Tamriel, and with it has come a newfound respect for the Dark Brotherhood. Those who, months before, would have joked about us, wondering if we even existed now trembled in fear. We had made our statement, and we made it loud and clear:_

 

_We are here. We are powerful. And we are to be respected._

 

_It has taken time to rebuild the Family, time to recover from the hard blow dealt to us by Astrid. But we have survived, we have overcome. Along with the help of our associates, our new Sanctuary fits our needs perfectly. We thrive now, old members alongside new. We have been through the fire, been to the breaking point, and we have come out the other side all the better for it. The acolytes receive proper training now, and no longer die en masse. We are careful who we take in, but those who we choose we forge life long bonds with. Because this is our life. It isn’t something we can just discard or forget about. It isn’t just what we do, it is who we are, the very core of us._

 

_The Family has been purified. Sithis has been satisfied. The Night Mother reigns once more. All is as it should be. As it should have always been. As it always would be. I will not always be Listener, of course. One day, whether on a contract or because of disease or just old age, I will make my own way to the Void and serve ever eternal, the same as my ancestors. It is what I was born for, what I was meant for. I do not fear it. Until that day, I will always serve on this side of the Void, listening to the Night Mother, teaching the new, showing the Family what it is like when you truly embrace Sithis and serve him._

 

_We never forget, of course, never forget those left behind. It is regrettable that the choices of others led us to lose Family that we held dear, but lose them we did. We take comfort, however, that they now serve the Dread Master in the Void. We respect their memory, raise toasts to them, take souls for them. And, if we should ever find ourselves back in Falkreath hold … there is a little section of the cemetery, somewhat removed from the rest, on the very edge. It is there that two graves rest, side by side. No one can say exactly when they appeared, even the priest who keeps the cemetery does not know. But we do. And every time we find ourselves in the hold, we find ourselves there. A shadow in the darkness, keeping watch over the graves, making sure they are being kept up and properly respected. Generations from now, assassins will visit those graves, not knowing who lies there, but knowing it is a journey one must take, one of respect, one of reflection. Even though they are gone, they are, in a sense, still here. Still with us. Their presence never truly leaves, even though their soul is long gone._

 

_For we are the Dark Brotherhood. And the Dark Brotherhood is eternal._

 


End file.
